


Bells Chiming under Mountains High

by DistractionReaction



Series: When Lions meet a Mouse [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU Everybody Lives, Book Spoilersish, Canon Divergence, Graphic Sex, M/M, Movie Spoilersish, Threesome, bottom!Kili
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionReaction/pseuds/DistractionReaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty days is like the blink of an eye after all of the years of struggle Bilbo was forced to endure to finally find himself at home in Erebor with the family and friends he holds most dear. However with a wedding looming on the horizon, waiting may be more difficult than the hobbit ever expected. Faced with strange new dwarven customs and subject to the scrutiny of an entire people, Bilbo has to steel himself for the days ahead. Only with strength, determination, and the support of his friends, will he finally find what he's been fighting his way across middle earth for: his rightful place at Fili and Kili's sides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Tidings from Afar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It is only for a month Kili.” Bilbo shook his head, chuckling softly while he moved over to drop another pile of folded clothing into the intricately carved chest by the door. “And you two will see me every day.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Really I see no need for you to leave at all.” He countered, scrunching up his face. “You could just stay in our room, Uncle Thorin would not care, and I cannot imagine mother would either.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I know.” Bilbo brushed his hands together and flashed the young archer an amused look. “However, you and I are both aware that it is tradition.” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha, ahaaaaaaaa ha. Yeah. 
> 
> Words cannot describe how hard I failed at getting this first chapter out on a reasonable timeline. No seriously guys, I am a horrible human being. But it is done now! DONE. Longer than I originally intended, but hey isn't that the story of my life. 
> 
> This is the very last addition to the "When Lions Meet a Mouse" series. I of course mentioned the possibility of writing a series from Fili and Kili's perspective, but I am also idly considering doing a bit of an afterward covering the whole LOTR saga and the whole bit with the One Ring, but I am still not sure on that point. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Either way, here it is! The last segment in an epic saga that started from one little PWP about blonds in a hotspring. I don't know how long this particular story is going to take, because the writing sort of has a mind of it's own, so we'll just have to see! :) 
> 
> Special thanks goes out to _grantairesunderwear_ for helping me beta this chapter, and also cheerleading me on a bit while I was struggling with getting everything finished. 
> 
> I would also like to thank _Mypersonalhaven_ , who has undertaken to correct my many mistakes throughout the series! Just so you know I have totally read your comments and the wonderful corrections that you have pointed out, and I fully plan to go through and implement them asap! They are very much appreciated, and I am sorry I haven't gotten back to you on them so far. I hope you continue to mention anything that you see that looks off, I really am truly grateful for every error you point out! :) 
> 
> There have been other reviewers who have offered me corrections as well, and I want to thank all of you! Your criticisms have been incredibly constructive and I know I haven't commented back on them or acted on them just yet but give me a bit of time and I will I promise! I have just been horrible at responding to my AO3 stuff right now, but I will! <3
> 
> Finally, thank you all for your Kudos and your kind comments! You have been all sorts of supportive and it absolutely tickles me pink that you all are so patient with me while I wade my way through this story. Also thanks to all the folks who have managed to stumble upon my Tumblr, and the wonderful support they have shown me throughout the past months! You guys are awesome. xx
> 
> Anywho as per usual any and all constructive criticism is MORE than welcome. So let me know if you notice any mistakes or see something you think should be changed!
> 
> If you are at all interested in hearing about why it took me so long to get this out (not that it is all that fascinating) I will have a note at the end of the work as well with a little bit of catch-up on my life. 
> 
> Enjoy! xoxoxox

“ _It is only for a month Kili_.” Bilbo shook his head, chuckling softly while he moved over to drop another pile of folded clothing into the intricately carved chest by the door. “And you will see me every day.” 

“It is not the same and you know it.” Kili made a distressed sound from where he sat on the ottoman by the door, legs crossed beneath him and his expression sour. “Really I see no need for you to leave at all.” He countered, scrunching up his face. “You could just stay in our room, Uncle Thorin would not care, and I cannot imagine mother would either.” 

“I know.” Bilbo brushed his hands together and flashed the young archer an amused look. “However, you and I are both aware that it is _tradition_.” 

The hobbit could do nothing but smirk at the low groan that Kili let out, the young prince looking beyond put-off. “It is a _ridiculous_ tradition.” 

“Yet tradition none the less.” Bilbo shot back over his shoulder, moving over to the side of the bed. He scooped up Sting from where it was resting against the wall before he strolled back over towards the front door. “I will fully honour your people’s customs, ridiculous or otherwise.” 

Kili pushed himself off of his seat with a noise that sounded distinctly like a whine. “Do you have to move rooms though?” He tried, stepping up behind the hobbit when Bilbo bent to settle his sword in the trunk. The dwarf’s calloused hands slid around Bilbo’s hips, fingers splaying over his stomach when the hobbit made to straighten. “We would behave ourselves. We could even set up a separate cot for you in the sitting room. Surely Mother and Uncle Thorin would not object.” 

Bilbo felt a slow roll of heat curl in his gut while he leaned back against Kili’s solid frame. His hands hovered for a moment before dropping down to frame the archer’s where they curled against his belly. “They might not,” He breathed, his head falling back against the young dwarf’s shoulder, “and, I believe, neither would our loyal companions. Yet even I know plenty of high ranking dwarrows who would be eager to dismiss our union on account of such technicalities.” 

“This is simply _unfair_.” Kili whined and tilted his head, mouthing gently along the column of Bilbo’s throat. He came to a stop at the hobbit’s ear, lips barely brushing against the sensitive shell. “We have had too much time to grow accustomed to your warmth in our bed. Why is it that now, when everything is so close to _perfect_ , they are determined to put this space between us?” 

Bilbo shuddered pleasantly, tightening his grip on Kili’s hands and curling back further into the taller man’s firm frame. “I know it feels unjust.” He murmured, tilting his head with a hitching breath when Kili’s teeth closed down over the soft flesh of his lobe. “But just think of what it will feel like after.”

The archer rumbled in his ear, fingers curling in the fabric that was tucked into Bilbo’s fine trousers. He tugged up, dragging the cloth out of its confines in an agonizingly slow manner. 

Biting hard on his lip the hobbit reached down, his hands curling over Kili’s wrists even while the dwarf freed his shirt completely, fingers sliding under to span out, palm flat against his flesh.

Bilbo’s stomach jumped under the firm press of his touch and arousal tightened in the base of his gut. He sucked in a shuddering breath and found his hips rolling back of their own accord. “Think about how _incredible_ our wedding night will be-”

Kili growled, his hands sliding back over to mould firmly over the round of the smaller man’s hips. In one smooth motion he spun Bilbo around in his grip, dropping his head down until their brows were pressed firmly together. “That does nothing to make this better,” he rumbled, sliding his hands down until they pressed over the Halfing’s rear, “now all I want to do is steal you away so that no one could rend you from us.” 

“Kili.” Bilbo had meant his tone to sound playful but instead it came out breathless and hoarse. He raised his hands, fisting one in the archer’s hair and dragging the other down his stubble kissed cheek. “We have to show restraint-”

“ _Aule damn restraint_.” With a gruff rumble the archer began to move forward, forcing Bilbo back in turn with his every step. “I cannot speak for my brother, but I for one will not be able to suffer thirty days of you being so near without the pleasure of your touch.” 

Bilbo’s breath hitched, his back slamming against something solid behind him, allowing Kili to push in until he was moulded to the hobbit’s lithe frame. “Oh,” he choked over the word, his head tilted up when the archer leaned down, nipping at his throat, “I know, I know, yet we still have the day, and-”

“It is _not_ enough.” Kili dropped a hand down, grasping one of the hobbit’s legs and hoisting it up, wrapping it around his hip. With a jolt the motion ground their groins together and they let out twin, breathy gasps. For a moment they stood frozen, the air still around them but for the heavy labouring of their breath. Then the archer shook his head where he had his face nestled in Bilbo’s throat. “If I had a week before you parted it would still not suffice.” He gasped out, raising his head to press their brows together once more. “Still I would desire nothing less than to burry myself in you, to bind us together, _all of us_ , so that we would never part again.” 

“Kili.” The name came out as ragged, half-teasing. “You and Fili have had many weeks leading up to this day-”

His voice cut off over a garbled moan when Kili rolled his hips forward, grinding against the smaller man in a slow, delicious movement. 

“And still, I would say,” the dwarf breathed, leaning closer until their lips just barely brushed, “the time was _not enough_.” 

Bilbo felt his eyes flutter shut of their own accord, his heart clenching in his chest. He tightened his grip in Kili’s hair and leaned up the last few inches it took to slide their mouths together. 

The noise the dwarf made was like a man starved for air. He pressed into Bilbo’s mouth and dragged his hands down each of the hobbit’s thighs. He gripped there, fingers digging into the fabric while he hoisted the smaller man completely off of the ground. 

Pinned to the wall there was no need for Bilbo to secure his legs around Kili’s waist, but he did so all the same. He hooked his ankles together, dragging the archer impossibly closer and licking a firm line between the dwarf’s chapped lips. 

“ _Honestly you two, it is barely past noon!_ ” 

Bilbo jerked back, startled out of the moment and smacked his head sharply against the wall behind him. Kili too jolted violently, stumbling back with the hobbit still firmly in his grip. Overbalancing the archer teetered over with a sharp shout, toppling down onto the soft fur rug below them, Bilbo colliding hard with his chest. 

“ _Unf_.” Kili made a sharp noise when they landed on the ground in a heap. In the tumble the hobbit had ended up flat against him, straddled awkwardly over the taller man’s chest. With a groan the archer raised his hand up, lifting his head to rub the back of it with a flushed wince.

“Oh! Kili I am so sorry.” Bilbo scrambled up to get his weight off of the man below him, resting on his knees so that he hovered above the prince. He dropped a hand down to cup Kili’s face, the touch gentle. “Are you alright?” 

“I am fine, really.” The dwarf made a pained noise, breathing in and forcing himself up with some effort. As he rose to sit, it forced Bilbo’s body to slide back until he was seated in the Prince’s lap, still staring up at him in concern. When Kili caught the look he smiled, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head sheepishly. “Though I must admit, that was not my most graceful moment.” 

“ _I would say so._ ” 

Bilbo coloured immediately at the voice, barely able to resist the urge to scramble back out of Kili’s grip when he glanced at the door, mortified. 

Nori stood there with Fili at his side, the blond prince covering the eyes of the squirming shireling in his grasp. They were hovering just inside of the entrance, the ex-thief’s braided eyebrows raised up to his hairline. His look was a combination of teasing and disbelief, whereas Fili’s was one of thinly veiled amusement. 

“Ah, Master Nori, what a pleasant surprise.” Bilbo’s face was burning scarlet while he forced himself up on his feet; though not without taking the time to extend a hand out to Kili below him. The archer allowed him to help him to his feet, looking sheepish with a crimson tinge to his cheeks. 

“Yes, ah-” Kili let out a chuckle, the sound slightly strained while he ran a hand over the back of his head, “what brings you here this fine afternoon?” 

“Well, I had been looking for our Mister Baggins here.” The ginger dwarf shook his head at the two of them, his expression more fond than anything. “I bumped into Fili and young master Frodo, they told me where to find you.” 

“I told him you were packing, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo exclaimed, reaching up to grasp at where Fili had a hand pressed over his face. With a chuckle the prince relented his hold, allowing Frodo to pull his arm down to reveal the child’s beaming face. “Then we walked with him all the way up here on the way back from the library!” 

“Did you now?” Bilbo coughed a little, straightening his clothes and stepping away from Kili, squeezing his hand briefly before he parted. He moved towards his nephew instead, a grin spreading across his cheeks. “And how was your trip to the library little one?” 

“ _Good!_ ” Frodo exclaimed clapping his hands together lightly and glancing up at Fili, as if for confirmation. “We read books about Erebor, and they were very inf…very infor…” 

His little face screwed up in concentration, as though the word was just on the tip of his tongue.

“ _Informative._ ” Fili supplied with a light chuckle, hitching the shireling up further into his arms. 

“Yeah, informative!” Frodo giggled, reaching out to clasp his uncle’s hand when Bilbo reached out to him.

“Well, it sounds like you two had quite the morning.” The older hobbit gave him a firm squeeze and a grin before flicking his gaze to Nori. “Now, Nori, why was it that you were looking for me?” 

“Ah, well, my brother appears to have received a raven for you.” The dwarf offered with a bright grin. He winked at Bilbo, braided brows rising. “One that I think you will find of the utmost importance.” 

The hobbit felt his chest tighten at that, heart thrumming frantically against his ribs. “The shire-?” 

“Well, ‘fraid I can say nothing for sure, but judging by Ori’s look-” Nori offered him a cheeky look, “it just might be good news.” 

Bilbo could do nothing to help the wide grin that slid up his features. “I would certainly hope so!” He stepped to the side to give his nephew’s nose a light tap. “What do you think little one, do you think it’s news from our friends?”

“From _Sam_?” Frodo managed with a gasp. 

“Well, we won’t know until we see, will we?” Despite his attempt at reservation Bilbo felt an excited flutter build in his chest. It had been years since they last saw their halfling brethren. Despite how comfortable they were in Erebor, and how much they loved their dwarven family, they were still hobbits, and therefore prone to homesickness for the shire. 

He glanced over towards where Nori stood, his hands wringing together in nervous excitement. “Where is our dear scribe? In the throne room?” 

“In the kitchens, actually.” The red head supplied with a chuckle. “He figured that was the best place to find you lot, given that it’s drawing near lunch. When I caught sight of little Frodo here in the halls, however, I figured it best to track you down.” He nodded his head towards the door, taking a step back out into the hall. “I can walk with you if you’d like?” 

“Thank you, that sounds positively wonderful.” Bilbo paused and flicked his gaze between the two dwarves beside him. “Anyone up for a bite?” 

Kili gave his teeth a teasing clack, offering the hobbit a wink. “Always.” 

“ _Oi, behave you lot_!” 

\---

“Afternoon Mister Bilbo.” 

The Hobbit glanced up from where he was watching after Frodo who had been dashing his way down towards the kitchens, leaving his uncle and their dwarven escort staggering along at his heels. The shireling skidded to a stop with a sound of delight when Molden paused them as they passed in the halls.

“And a good afternoon to you too.” He offered, flashing the dwarrow a broad grin. 

“Hello Mister Molden!” Frodo took a moment to catch the guard’s legs, squeezing them before he stepped back, already trailing after where Nori had passed them, moving further down the hall. “We got a letter from the shire!” 

“Ah, we are not sure about that just yet little one!” Bilbo called after him quickly. Frodo didn’t seem to be paying attention, his tiny legs pumping while he dashed up at Nori’s heels. Bilbo watched him, expression growing fond despite himself. He had not seen the shireling so excited for quite some time. With a slow shake of his head he turned his attention back to Molden, feeling Fili and Kili coming to a stop at his back. 

“Molden! What a pleasant surprise!” The younger prince piped up from behind him, stepping around to clasp the dwarrow’s forearm with his own. “How are you friend? We have not had much chance to speak outside of formal meetings in some time.” 

The dwarf smiled and nodded his head at the brothers respectfully. “Master Fili, Master Kili.” He released the young archers arm and stood back slightly, grin widening. “All has been surprisingly well of late! Very little disturbance among the people, keeping my job easy…and of course my family is as lovely as ever.”

“Fantastic to hear on both accounts.” Fili piped up, dragging a hand along Bilbo’s shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. The hobbit glanced up at him with a smile, raising his fingers to curl over the dwarf’s. “Though I thought with that raid on the last gold shipment we sent out the city would have been left in a state of unrest. I know Uncle Thorin was quite put off about it.” 

“ _Was_? Still is if you ask me. When I stopped in last eve he was still in a right state.” Kili exclaimed. He leaned closer to Molden, his expression imploring. “I’ve heard rumours of unrest in the forges.” 

“Well-” The large dwarven guard made to answer, pausing when his gaze flicked to Bilbo where the hobbit stood. “As much as I would love to further this discussion, I would not think of intruding on such important matters as news from the shire-”

“Oh no! Do not hold back on my account.” Bilbo began to draw away from Fili’s hold, turning and leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to the older prince’s lips. “I’ll move ahead to the kitchens-” He then turned to Kili, smiling when the young archer leaned down to press their mouths together firmly, “you two catch up when you’re finished.” 

“Are you sure?” Kili asked, stepping back once more and flicking his gaze between the hobbit and Molden. 

“We could always have this conversation later.” The dwarrow assured them quickly. 

“No, no, it’s quite alright.” Bilbo offered them a reassuring smile before he turned back to Fili, giving the blonde’s hand a firm squeeze. “I will see you two shortly.” 

“That you will.” The prince returned his grip before he finally released him. His smile was wide, his attention fixed on the Halfling even when he turned to walk away. 

“It was good to see you Molden! We simply must get together with that family of yours some time.” 

“It would be a pleasure master hobbit!” 

Bilbo waved behind him before he hurried down the hall, eyes fixed on the kitchens up ahead. As he approached the gap in the thick rock walls something small appeared from within the warm light beyond it, Frodo peering out at him from around the doorway. 

“Uncle Bilbo!” The child waved him on enthusiastically when he approached, before his brows creased down into something like a scowl. “Where did Fili and Kili go? I thought they were with you!” 

“They will come little one, not a worry.” He ushered Frodo back into the entrance to the kitchens, noting that Nori had disappeared somewhere in the depths of the massive chambers. “Come now, I believe we have some news waiting for us, do we not love?” 

The shireling made a bright noise of excitement, turning on heel and scurrying forward at his Uncle’s urging, drawing the pair of them deeper into the warm light of Erebor’s massive kitchens. 

At first there was only the hustle and bustle of familiar dwarves, faces they’d encountered each day when they snuck through for their many meals. Then a large, familiar shape came into view. The figure hovered over some sweet looing pastry, the raw aroma drawing them closer as the red headed chef turned and met their gazes with a wide grin. 

“Master Bilbo, and young Master Frodo I see.” Bombur let out a pleasant noise, clapping flour from his hands off on the front of his well-used apron. “Come to the kitchen to steal some snacks have we?” 

“Of course not.” Bilbo scoffed, hitching Frodo further up on his hip. The child had grown slightly in the few years since they had arrived at Erebor’s massive gates, almost too much for his Uncle to carry. Yet for now the shireling was still small enough and content enough in curling up in the older hobbit’s arms, his arms curled firmly around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Though if you had some food you were willing, to share, I am sure we would not object, right Frodo?” 

“Yes please!” The hobbit-ling made a noise of ascent, wiggling until his Uncle set him down and dashed over to Bombur where he stood. When he collided with the dwarf’s legs he squeezed there in a tight embrace, a wide grin spreading across his features. “What are you baking Mister Bombur? It smells so good!” 

“Ah-” Bombur winced slightly when Frodo pressed himself close to his flour covered apron, flashing the older hobbit an apologetic expression. Bilbo simply waved him off with a light chuckle. At Frodo’s age, no shireling stayed clean for long. Satisfied the chef smiled in return, reaching down to pat the small child’s back firmly. “Well that would be my family’s famous sweet berry crumble. ‘Figured it might be a nice treat with dinner this evening.” 

“Mmm, that sounds delicious!” Frodo exclaimed, reaching up to grasp at Bombur’s apron, practically hanging off of the dwarf’s front. “You are _so amazing_ at cooking Mister Bombur!” 

Bilbo could not help the sharp chuckle that escaped him, recognizing Frodo’s sugary sweet tone immediately. The child had spent enough time with Kili in the past few years to pick up his habit of flattering in the course of achieving his wants. 

“That is awful sweet of you little one.” Bombur offered the child a warm wink, reaching down to scoop him up and set him on a clear section of counter space. “Just you wait a moment, I’ll scrounge you up something delicious for lunch.” 

Frodo made a noise of pure delight from where he sat, legs swinging, and Bilbo knew this was his chance to sneak away. 

“Alright little one.” He came up to the counter, taking a moment to press a kiss to his nephew’s brow. “You be good for Mister Bombur for a moment alright? I am off to find Ori.” 

“Okay.” The shireling seemed pleased enough to stay where he was, but there was no hiding the anxious glint in his eyes. “You will tell me about Sam though, right?” 

“Of course my darling.” Bilbo reached forward, cupping the hobbitling’s cheek briefly before drawing back. “As soon as I have news, you will know.” 

He waved to the child when he turned to move further into the crowded kitchens, knowing that Ori and his brother would more likely be where the meats were being prepared. 

Sure enough he found the scribe politely nagging at one of the few dwarven women who laboured in the kitchen, Nori at his side, the two eyeing a fair chunk of smoked boar that she had been slicing on a heavy stone slab. 

“Oh you two, causing trouble as usual.” He clucked his tongue with a slow shake of his head, but was unable to keep the broad grin from his features. 

The woman flashed him a grateful smile, the beads in her beard jostling slightly with the shifting expression. Ori, on the other hand, flushed, stuttering out a quick greeting. “Mister Bilbo! I have been looking for you.” 

“So I heard.” The hobbit flashed Nori a knowing look and the read headed dwarf grinned. “Your brother tells me that you bring news of the Shire?” 

“Ah,” Nori piped in, scratching at the back of his head, “I believe I told you that I never did hear the specifics.” 

“That you did, but us hobbits tend to be a hopeful sort of folk.” Bilbo flashed him a wink, before turning his attention back to the scribe. “Though perhaps this time such hopes are in vain?” 

Ori grinned at him, fishing into a pouch at his side and drawing out a tightly rolled piece of parchment. “That, Master Baggins, is something you should see for yourself.” 

\---

It was an age old custom in dwarven culture for those betrothed to the royal family to sup with the ruling king on the eve before commitment ceremonies were to begin. 

For one month, the engaged parties would be chaperoned, only allowed to keep each other’s company under the watchful eyes of their appointed guardians. In their case, Bofur had been assigned to Bilbo, while Balin was set to mind Fili and Kili. It was an age old tradition, meant to preserve the sanctity of the relationship in the days before formal union. The thought made Bilbo flush, embarrassed at how un-sanctimonious his relationship had been with the brothers since the very beginning. Yet still he did not object to the arrangement, in fact he felt almost flattered to be so involved in dwarven cultural practices. 

The princes however, were not so pleased by the arrangement. Kili had a soured, put off expression when his Uncle announced their chaperones, and Fili, while slightly exhasperated, seemed to take the idea with more grace. It was, after all, only to be expected of the heir to the throne. 

In the end despite any misgivings, they both relented to the age-old tradition. 

In addition to their new found surveillance they would, once every seven days, meet with the council of Erebor, and answer to any concerns from both noble and common dwarf alike. That part of their commitment frightened Bilbo more than anything else. He had only just started to find his place in the massive kingdom under the mountain. Even the years he had spent with the dwarves had not led him to feel comfortable with the people as a whole. He still caught them staring, gazes filled with confusion or, heaven forbid, anger. It was as though at times they resented him simply for existing. 

He would have to face each of them, and he would do it with as much strength and bravery as he could muster. 

All of this was leading towards their final goal; towards something they’d been seeking for many long, heart wrenching years. Something that the month stretching out before them would be used to plan, meticulously. 

_Their ceremony._

He felt a bubble of warmth in his chest at the thought of the day that was soon approaching. It had been over a year since he had formally asked for the hands of the princes, and years more still since he had first set his heart on spending their lives together. The ceremony was the last step on a long and arduous journey that was now fading back at their heels; soon it would be nothing but a shared history to regard with tight hearts and fond memories. 

It was their big day and, if his conversations with Dis were any indication, it was to be a _lavish_ affair. 

He smiled, turning back to his dish, the fourth course of their intimate dinner. The massive dining table had been stuffed to the brim with food, the lot of them eating and casually going over the procedures they were to follow over the coming month. He had been relieved of Frodo’s company for the moment, the tiny shireling seated right at Thorin’s side at the end of the table, distracting him while he chatted away happily. 

Bilbo took a brief moment to sigh and shake his head in disbelief of the grandeur of it all. He had been seated between Thorin and Dis, and, as was tradition, Fili and Kili sat opposite him at the grand table top. 

"Was your commitment so elaborate?" Bilbo whispered to the princess at his side, dropping his voice low even as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on their king.

"More elaborate, not necessarily, but more rigorous? Oh heavens yes!" Dis chuckled behind her goblet, tipping back her last sip of warm, honey liquor before reaching across the table to snatch at the remaining decanter. "Though it was not Thorin, nor Frerin, that my beloved had to go through. He had known them since childhood. My brothers were easily won over with time and familiarity. His real challenge, mind you, came from my grandfather; and of course my father as well. Gaining their favour was not an easy feat dear master Baggins. Not an easy feat in the least."

Bilbo fought back the sudden urge to shudder, relief welling in his chest at the thought. "I suppose I have a great deal to be thankful for in comparison."

"Perhaps." The dwarven woman turned to him, her expression endearing and thoughtful. "Though this leniency is well earned my friend. You have more than proven your devotion to my children, and to our people as a whole."

The hobbit started softly, feeling his cheek heat up with embarrassment. “Thank you Dis-” 

“ _Bilbo_.” 

Thorin’s voice jarred them out of their whispered conversation, Bilbo jerking his head up while Dis simply straightened with a smile. Once the King had his attention he continued, folding his hands together and leaning forward over the table. “You have yet to enlighten us as to your news from the shire.” 

“Oh!” The hobbit fidgeted in his seat, shifting forward until he could rest his arms comfortably on the high table top. “I suppose I have been keeping it to myself quite unfairly.” 

“Oh, oh! Uncle Bilbo told me already!” Frodo chimed in a sing song tone, grinning at the thought of having shared in some sort of special secret. “He read the letter to me with Fili and Kili!” 

The brothers both glanced to the shireling, their expressions fond when Fili piped up cheerily. “Gave us the news immediately, right little one?” 

“Yep!” The child leaned forward in his seat, a hunk of bread in his hands and wide smile still stretched across his features.

“Did he now?” Thorin exclaimed, regarding Bilbo in mock offence. “I feel utterly left out.” 

“Not the last to know dear brother.” Dis commented idly, clicking her tongue in a disappointed fashion. “I have yet to hear of this news myself.” 

They were teasing, he knew, but that did nothing to stop the hot flush of embarrassment that coloured Bilbo’s cheeks. He offered them a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders in what he hoped to be an apologetic manner. “I am afraid, my lord and lady, that I was distracted in your company by other pressing matters.” He flicked his gaze from Dis back to Thorin, flashing the king a soft smile. “You will have to forgive my transgression.” 

With a laugh of his own the King shook his head. “There is nothing to forgive friend, though I am curious-” He sat forward and his hands smoothed across the surface of the table, “will Dwalin be returning home with his envoy alone, or will they have company?” 

Bilbo made to answer but found himself cut off rather suddenly when Frodo let out a delighted noise and clapped his hands together, food momentarily forgotten. “Sam is coming!” He exclaimed, excitement bubbling over completely. “Merry too, and Pippin, and all of our friends!” 

“ _Frodo_!” Kili startled with a laugh, shaking his head in the shireling’s direction. “I do not believe that was your surprise to tell sweet thing!” 

“Oh.” Frodo blinked, his eyes owlishly wide and his cheeks pinking. “ _Oh_.” He turned to his uncle, suddenly looking quite stricken. “Did I do a bad thing?” 

“No no sweet heart.” Bilbo assured him with a laugh, unable to hide his joy. He brought a hand up to cup his own cheek, regarding the hobbitling fondly before he flicked his gaze back to Thorin and smiled. “It’s _our_ news to share.” 

“Good news at that.” Thorin returned the gesture, and Bilbo couldn’t help the surge of happiness at the way the king now regarded him with such fondness. 

All of the hardships of the past seemed so distant now that he was here, safe and warm with the friends and family that he held so dear. He moved his gaze to Fili and Kili to find them looking at him in turn, smiles wide and expressions complex. The younger prince’s gaze was more raw, hunger still broiling beneath the surface. It was subtle, masked by a grin and the constant drumming of his fingers at the side of his plate. Fili’s expression was more carefully guarded, just the most subtle sly edge to his smile, curling up his bearded mouth. The blond nodded to him, winking. “The best news.” 

“How splendid.” Dis gave her own hands a clap, her attention turning to her brother at the head of the table. “It appears that arrangements are in order.” 

“Indeed.” Thorin reached out to grasp for his goblet and flashed Bilbo a significant look. “Let us prepare,” he raised the drink with a grin, gaze flicking around the table, “ _for the hobbits are coming to Erebor_.” 

\---

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather have us tuck you into bed tonight little one?” Kili asked, the young dwarf more torn than any of them over the idea of breaking their evening routine with the shireling. 

Dis stood with Thorin, Frodo at their feet, a hand in each of the sibling’s larger ones. The hobbitling offered them a grin, leaning back in the two dwarves’ grips until they supported his weight where he rocked on his heels. “Nope! Thorin promised to play with me! We are going to battle the mighty dragon Smaug.” 

“Are you now?” Bilbo chuckled, flicking his gaze between the royal siblings with a shake of his head. 

“I get the privilege of being Smaug.” Dis informed him with a cheeky grin. “Frodo rightly pointed out that while he is bigger than me, I still frighten our lord King Thorin here, which makes _me_ the more convincing dragon.” 

The noise that escaped Bilbo was one of bright amusement and shock. With his eyes wide he glanced down to Frodo, his head still shaking. “You said no such thing!” 

The child looked sheepish, still smiling even through a small shrug. “I did.” 

“It is true though, in his defence.” Thorin supplied, looking surprisingly fond when he regarded the small shireling. “He is very astute, even at such a young age.” 

“Yeah, I am _estoot_.” Frodo’s voice turned solemn and he offered them a serious nod. 

Fili and Kili burst out laughing, Bilbo following along soon after with a fond sigh. “Oh sweet thing, never change.” He stepped forward, waiting for his nephew to straighten before he leaned down to accept a kiss from the child. “You be good alright? I will see you first thing in the morn, when I move into your room! That will be exciting, will it not?” 

“It will, it will!” Frodo squealed and hopped where he stood, delighted by the idea of sharing his bedroom with his uncle for the next month. They had the child sleeping in his own quarters almost every eve since they had settled into their home under the mountain. Occasionally he would sneak his way into their covers to cuddle for an evening, but for the most part he was happy enough to settle into his own chambers. “We can play games before bed every night!” 

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head. “We _already_ play games before bed every night little one; and what else do we do?” 

“We read and practice my letters.” Frodo told him, beaming. 

“That is right.” The older hobbit gave his nephew an affectionate pat on the head, carding his fingers through his bangs before stepping away to give Fili and Kili room to stoop down and say their goodnights. 

“Be sure to give our Uncle a hard time Frodo.” Fili teased softly, leaning down to press his lips to the child’s brow. 

With a giggle the shireling reached up, squeezing his hands over the blond’s bearded cheeks. “ _No_ that would be mean!” He chided, his voice squeaking over a small giggle. 

“That it would be.” Thorin rumbled in, raising his eyebrows at Fili and giving Frodo’s shoulder a small squeeze. “And we are friends, are we not little one?” 

“We are!” The hobbitling chirped happily, moving away from Dis for a moment to throw his arms around the dwarf King’s legs. “Friends are kind to one another.” 

“So it would seem!” Kili exclaimed, nudging his brother aside lightly and crouching down next to Frodo where he was squeezed around Thorin’s knees. The archer pressed in close, nuzzling the child and earning a sharp giggle of laughter in response. “You enjoy your time with Uncle Thorin and our mum, okay little one?” 

“Okay.” Frodo released his grip and turned to throw his arms around Kili instead, squeezing there with a bright noise of delight. “Will you come for breakfast in the morning?” 

The young dwarf folded his arms around the shireling, giving him a firm squeeze and placing kisses across his forehead. “We would not miss it for the world.” 

The three of them finished bidding their goodnights to Thorin and Dis, smiling and waving from the doorway when the siblings began to lead Frodo down the hall. Even from afar it was apparent that they were attempting to distract the young child; no doubt with promises of play time adventures. Bilbo hovered in the threshold until they disappeared into Thorin’s great chambers, fingers curled around the edges of the frame. 

“They are truly wonderful with him.” He murmured, almost to himself. He let his head drop against the wood of the doorway for a moment, a wistful sigh escaping him. “It is so nice for him to be so truly at home.” 

“And you as well, let us not forget.” Fili murmured, his hands sliding down to frame the hobbit’s hips and his lips dropping to the curve of his ear. “This place, in all its glorious height and spiralling depth, is just as much yours as any of ours.”

Bilbo turned his head back over his shoulder, nose brushing along the blond’s with the motion. “You really do believe that, don’t you?” 

Fili’s eyes drooped slightly, half lidded while his fingers tightened over the halfling’s waist. He turned Bilbo towards him, their mouths sliding together briefly when he spoke. “I really, truly do.” 

“Inside?” Bilbo tipped up on his toes a bit, leaning forward until he forced the prince to step back into their chambers. 

Kili stood just within the foyer, watching them with that same open, hungry expression that he had been struggling with all day. Meeting his gaze briefly the hobbit smirked. He shifted his grip and leaned up to slide a hand beneath Fili’s chin, carefully tilting his head to the side. Then he pushed up the last few inches between them to place a firm, chaste kiss to the thick column of the prince’s throat. When he pulled away he sucked the flesh between his teeth, nipping lightly before finally sliding his mouth back. Fili’s sharp gasp was met by his brother’s strangled groan, Kili stumbling on an aborted step forward.

With an easy chuckle Bilbo released his grip on the older prince, dropping back down on his feet and leaning forward to kiss at the dip in FIli’s collar bone instead. 

“You two are awfully wound up tonight.” He commented idly, taking a step away from the blond so he could regard Kili in full. 

The younger prince breathed in heavily through his nose, his lips peeling back slightly to reveal gritted teeth. “ _You_ , our cheeky, devilish Mister Baggins, are the reason for this state, and you know it.” He moved forward until he was at Bilbo’s front, reaching out to rake a hand through the hobbit’s honey blonde curls. His fingers then tightened sharply in the short locks, dragging the smaller man’s head back in a slow, teasing manner. “You _know_ just how long it will be until you find our bed once more.” 

Bilbo’s breath hitched at the tug on his scalp, his head tilting back easily along with the motion. “I do-” he groaned when Kili’s grip tightened once more, the force causing his back to bow where he stood, “but does it not make everything that much more _tantalizing_?”

The sound Kili made was absolutely wounded. He dragged the hobbit closer with a hearty rumble in his chest, plastering their fronts together in a smooth, firm line. 

From behind them Fili made a choked noise, his muffled steps sliding away momentarily. “I had best get the door then.” 

Kili glanced up at that and Bilbo could see his gaze flick about to catch his brother’s. Despite the distraction his grip was still iron in the hobbit’s locks. “Close it and _get over here_.” 

Bilbo couldn’t turn his head, but Fili’s answering groan was followed by the hard slam of their chamber door sealing shut, painting a vivid image of the dwarf in his mind. Hot arousal coiled in his gut, pooling thick and heavy while it spread out beneath his skin. 

His hands shook when he raised them but he managed to grip at Kili’s wrist all the same. He gave the dwarf a firm squeeze, feeling the fingers loosen from his curls, hand slipping down to cup his round cheek instead. When the young archer finally turned back to meet his gaze Bilbo bit down on his lip, teeth digging in hard. “Bed?” 

Kili groaned and pressed his thumb to the curve of the hobbit’s jaw. In a firm, steady motion he dug in until Bilbo’s mouth slid open, releasing the bite reddened flesh. “ _Yes_.” The archer leaned down, stepping back and urging Bilbo with him even as he crushed their mouths together. 

They stumbled forward, Bilbo dropping his hands down to fist in Kili’s tunic. The dwarf dragged him along until they came to an abrupt stop, tumbling over the side of the bed. The hobbit chuckled from where he was sprawled and drew away slightly, taking a moment to adjust. He managed to push up to his knees, thighs framing Kili’s hips. 

“This seems slightly familiar.” He offered, rolling his body teasingly where he was settled in the young archer’s lap. “I do believe I am detecting a theme here.”

“Perhaps,” Kili groaned, dropping his head back and dragging his hands around Bilbo’s waist, “though perhaps this time less clothing can be involved?”

“I think he would have to move to make that possible.” Fili chided lightly, suddenly directly at their backs. His hands met his brother’s where they were moulded over Bilbo’s hips. With a hum he gently slid over Kili’s fingers, moving to fist into the fabric of the hobbit’s shirt and tugging up at it from behind. “Though I would agree, the less clothing, the better.” 

Bilbo nodded with a groan, leaning down to peck Kili quickly on the lips before he slowly peel himself back out of the dwarf’s lap. As he moved Fili dragged his shirt up, hitching it all the way to his sternum. The prince paused long enough to undo the top buttons and peel away the smaller man’s outer coat and suspenders before he grasped at the top and pulled the fabric completely over his head. It was with a satisfied groan that he tossed it off to the side and caught the hobbit’s bare stomach with the firm press of his palms. 

“How are we ever going to survive a full month, seeing you every day, without _this_?” Kili groaned from the bed, watching as his brother’s fingers splayed out across Bilbo’s skin. The archer leaned back into the mattress, starting about tugging at his clothes and biting down hard on the swell of his lip. “It will be torture.” 

“We will manage, and in the end it will all be for the better.” Bilbo assured him cheekily, his breath catching slightly at the sight of the young prince beneath them. He leaned back into Fili’s wandering grip, his hands framing the prince’s while he slowly worked to divest him of his trousers. His gaze was still fixed on Kili on the bed, the younger dwarf sprawled with his fingers deftly picking at the fastenings of his trousers. 

“ _Just look at him_.” Fili’s deep voice rumbled against his ear, hot breath tickling in a way that made Bilbo’s toes curl. He pushed himself back further in the blond’s grip, turning his head until he could glance to where Fili’s chin rested on his shoulder. 

“I am looking.” He murmured, flicking his gaze back to where Kili was watching them. The archer had tugged his tunic off and away, leaving him in naught but his bottoms. With a groan Bilbo looked back to Fili, finding that the prince had tilted his head to face him in turn. When he spoke again he stole a sweet, lingering kiss, their mouths brushing together with each breath. “I dare say I could not avoid it if I tried. He _is_ gorgeous.” 

“ _Really now_ you two.” Kili whined from the bed. His hands were splayed out over his stomach, fingers dipped tantalizingly into the waist band of his trousers. “That is hardly playing fair.” 

“Who said anything about playing fair?” Bilbo shot back teasingly, sliding his mouth over to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Fili’s lips. 

Kili groaned and tipped his head back where he lay, sitting up slightly when he eased his pants down over his hips. Their attention momentarily stolen the two of them watched him, eyes trained on each inch of firm flesh as it was barred to the room. 

“ _Aule_.” Fili groaned and leaned down to press his lips firmly to Bilbo’s ear, his voice dropping to a bare whisper. “ _You should fuck him_.” 

Bilbo’s breath caught and a hard spike of arousal drove into his gut. It didn’t appear as though Kili had heard his brother, watching the two of them in slight confusion, now stripped bare on the bed. The hobbit let his eyes roam over the lightly furred expanse of skin before him and fought back a hard shudder. “You think he would like that?” 

“Like what?” Kili asked, propping himself up on his elbows slightly and regarding the two of them skeptically. 

“He will love it.” Fili chuckled, ignoring his brother’s question completely. Instead he simply nuzzled at the side of Bilbo’s throat, his hands fisting in the fabric of his undone trousers and yanking them down without ceremony. Then with a firm hand to the small of the hobbit’s back he shoved him down, forcing him between Kili’s spread thighs on the bed. 

They both groaned at the contact, but before Bilbo could push himself back up Fili was crowded up against his back, groin pressed firmly to the curve of the smaller man’s ass. In a heartbeat the prince was molded firmly against his back, clothed body pressed into him from hips to shoulders. With a hitching breath the hobbit dropped his head to Kili’s chest, trying to regain some semblance of control over the hard flush of arousal that rocked through him. 

“Gods yes.” Kili choked out from beneath them, stretching his bent legs apart to allow Bilbo to sink further into the cradle of his groin. “I will, I will love it.” 

Bilbo found himself groaning and shifting his hands until they were curled around Kili’s thighs. He dug into the soft flesh, fingers squeezing while he pushed the archer’s legs up slightly. “You have not even heard what ‘it’ is.” 

The young dwarf shook his head against the mattress, hands coming up to reach for Fili where his brother was pressed to Bilbo’s back. He curled his hands over the blond’s forearms, dragging the three of them impossibly closer. “As long as it is you, the both of you, here with me like this, it could be nothing but _good_.” 

“ _Mahal._ ” 

Suddenly the weight that bore down over Bilbo’s shoulders vanished, a small clutter of noise sounding out from behind him. The hobbit couldn’t help but prop himself up where he had settled between the youngest prince’s thighs, glancing over his shoulder to catch Fili frantically working at his buttons. 

“I am wearing _far_ too much clothing for this.” The blond dwarf growled, one knee still propped on the mattress while he worked. He shucked the top to the floor in one smooth motion, the fabric clanging heavily against hard stone with what was no doubt hidden daggers and other such weaponry. 

“Oh,” Bilbo let out a low breath, “oh I concur.” He watched Fili for a moment, his expression hungry, before a sudden thought struck through him. He smiled, turning his head until he was gazing slyly down at where Kili lay. The young dwarf’s breath came out in short pants, face flush and body kissed with sweat. 

“Fili love,” the hobbit groaned, noise raw and ragged, “since you are up, be a peach and get us some lube?”

\---

“Enough, oh, _oh_ enough Bilbo please!” Kili’s grip slipped on his knees where he’d been holding them up to his chest. His legs fell until he managed to curl them around Bilbo’s waist, squeezing at his hips with his thighs. 

The hobbit felt his breath hitch, teeth digging into the flesh of his lower lip. He tried to focus through Fili’s ministrations at his back, having the presence of mind to twist his fingers where they were buried deep inside the archer. “Are you certain?” Bilbo murmured, twitching when Fili struck his prostrate. He fought to maintain his composure, a hard tremble wracking through him. He tried to focus on Kili instead, reaching out to cup the young dwarf’s cheek with his free hand. “The last thing I want is to hurt you.” 

“I am ready, I am, _please_.” Kili’s breath hitched through a whine. 

“He is, you know.” Fili’s mouth found his ear, beard tickling against the pointed tip before he caught it carefully in his teeth. “You can hear it in his voice, I _know_ you can.” 

Bilbo made a desperate noise at the tug to his ear, shiver racking down his spine. “I-”

“He is ready,” Fili kissed his way down the hobbit’s throat, slowly working his fingers out of the smaller man’s body, “just like _you are_.” 

“Okay, _okay_.” Bilbo shifted where he was between Kili’s legs, feeling empty and reeling with need. He drew his hand away and shifted to grip at the archer’s thighs. He eased them higher around his waist, convincing the young dwarf to wrap around him before dropping his hands to squeeze at his ass. 

“Thank you, _Aule_ thank you.” Kili babbled, his eyes glazed. He reached up to grasp the back of Bilbo’s head, reaching up past his shoulders to grab at his brother behind him with his free hand. “ _Fili-_ ”

“It is alright,” Fili murmured, lacing fingers with Kili and dropping their hands down to the halfling’s shoulders. “Bilbo is going to take _good_ care of you.” 

The hobbit let out a groan. He shifted on his knees and reached down to grab at the base of his cock. Then slowly, carefully, he pushed forwards, using one hand to support Kili while he carefully sunk into the archer’s waiting body. 

Kili made a noise like someone had struck him in the gut, air pushing out of his lungs in a hard gasp. Squirming he dragged Bilbo down with a grip in his honey curls, pressing the hobbit’s face into his shoulder and holding him there until he was fully seated inside of him. “Oh, _oh_.” 

“Wait, just wait.” Bilbo breathed, pushing forward until he was kneeling with his legs spread, shoulders bowed down to press his chest to the archer’s. 

“Move, you can move.” Kili told him with a hard tremble. His body clenched around him and the hobbit had to bite back the groan that threatened to fall from his lips. 

He opened his lips against the column of Kili’s throat, nipping at him carefully. “Not yet,” he could feel Fili moving behind him, feel the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against him, familiar and hot, “just hold on for a bit longer.” 

“You look so good like this. Both of you.” One of Fili’s hands curled over his hip, fingers digging in firmly when he rolled his hips forward, pressing into the hobbit in one smooth, careful movement. The blond let out a sharp, incoherent groan, his hips stuttering in a way that struck deep inside Bilbo. Sparks of pleasure flooded over him and he gasped, his own body jerking forward against his will. 

Kili let out a sharp noise, releasing his brother to dig both of his hands into Bilbo’s hair. “Just like that.” He yanked hard and the hobbit let out a sharp hiss, driven forward into the body beneath him by another of Fili’s thrusts. “Oh, oh _Aule_.” Kili kept his grip firm, his ankle’s hooking behind Bilbo’s back, tugging him closer with each slide of their bodies. “Keep going, _keep going_.”

Biting down on the inside of his cheek Bilbo tried to breathe, pushing himself up carefully on his elbows and closing his eyes with a strained groan. He felt like he was suffocating in the burning build of pleasure. 

Then Kili was moving against him with everything he could manage, squirming on his back in a desperate attempt at leverage. Each small motion caused his body to tense around the hobbit, sharp heat curling in his body with each clench on his cock. Bilbo could barely keep himself upright, let alone maintain the presence of mind to move. 

Thankfully, Fili seemed to have that particular detail under control. With one hand on Bilbo’s hips he wrapped the other around his front, dragging the hobbit up until they were back to chest. The motion caused Kili to release his grip on Bilbo’s hair, falling back against the mattress with a groan. Fili used the new angle to force his knees beneath Bilbo’s thighs, dropping him back further on his cock. Then with a long, hard thrust he started fucking into the smaller man. The motion pushed him forward into Kili, establishing a forced rhythm that had their bodies jerking at each brutal contact. The younger dwarf gasped, dragging his legs out from where they had been pinned between Fili and Bilbo in order to draw them back, knuckles white with his tightening grip. 

“This,” the older prince groaned, his hips snapping up viciously and his nails digging in to the soft flesh of Bilbo’s stomach, “this is what will carry us through, these moments, these _memories_.” 

“Ah, ngh-” The hobbit dropped his hands, pressing down against Kili’s legs to help him hold them back. He bit down hard hard into his lips, trapped between the punishing push and overwhelming heat of the brothers around them, “I will think of this, every day, every hour, I-” He gasped, barely able to force out the words through the tight curl of pleasure that consumed him, weighing heavily in his gut, “I dare say I won’t be able to _stop_.” 

Fili growled, his thrusts picking up to an impossible pace, and Bilbo found himself helpless in the relentless push and pull that trapped him between the dwarves. Beneath him Kili keened desperately, his grip slipping once more from his legs, leaving Bilbo to pin them down to his chest with his own body weight. The hobbit gasped breathlessly, shifting his grip to draw the archer’s knees back to his hips.

The position drew Kili flat against his pelvis, driving Bilbo impossibly deep. With a whine the archer tensed and gyrated his hips desperately. He ground up against the hobbit the best he could manage until Fili’s thrusts flattened him back into the mattress once more. 

With no small amount of effort they managed to pick up a steady pace, Bilbo struggling and straining to do his part in the flurry of sweat slicked skin, laboured breath, and brutal movement. It was all he could do to keep his composure. He was torn between two impossible extremes; tight heat that clenched around him and bright flares of pleasure pounding straight through his core. 

“ _I- I can’t-_ ”

It took Bilbo a moment to recognize the voice and yet another to realize that somewhere along the line he had shut his eyes, tight. With a shuddering breath he forced himself to look down at Kili, the young dwarf trembling, face screwed up in pleasure. 

“Let it go Kil, let it go.” Fili soothed from over his shoulder. He kept one hand where it lay, spread wide across the Halfling’s belly, but with the other he reached between Kili and Bilbo, taking his brother’s cock in hand. “Come for us.” 

The young prince tensed, hips jerking helplessly up into Fili’s grip. In that moment Bilbo’s mouth dropped open at the vice like grip of Kili’s body around him, the archer tensing with a hard cry as he came violently between them. 

Bilbo tried to still to give the man beneath him a chance to breathe, but Fili kept moving, pushing into him in hard, directed strokes. The hobbit squirmed, Kili still clamping down over him rhythmically in the aftershocks of his climax, and Fili striking his prostate with each careful thrust. 

“Wait, wait, you have to-” Kili gasped, straining and pushing at Bilbo, trying to squirm away, “stop, stop please, too much-”

“Ah, _ah, ah_.” Bilbo sucked in hard, his hands trembling when he reached back to squeeze at Fili’s thighs. “Just, just-” his breath hitched and he pressed himself back, trying to draw out of Kili’s oversensitive frame, “just one second, just wait one second.” 

“Right, right okay.” Fili paused in his motions, hooking his arms around Bilbo’s stomach and dragging him back enough to help him ease out of his brother. “ _My apologies Kili_.” 

“Oh, oh-” Kili let out a breathless laugh, scooting back on the bed a touch to give the pair room. As Bilbo’s still hard cock dropped free of his body the archer gasped and fell back against the mattress. “Do not apologize, that was fantastic.” 

“Was for you,” Fili shifted his grip on Bilbo as soon as Kili had shifted back, dragging his hands around to press them flat to the small of the hobbit’s back, “for us, on the other hand, it _still is_.” 

He shoved forward, causing Bilbo to slam down into the mattress. The hobbit barely managed to catch himself with trembling hands, arms soon collapsing under the pressure until his chest and face were splayed flat to the covers. 

Bilbo’s breath hitched on a cry and he struggled to prop himself up, finding quite suddenly that Fili had him trapped with a firm hand pressed to the center of his shoulders. He whined and squirmed back against the hold that pinned him. The motion caused his hips to slide back against the blond prince’s pelvis, the movement striking at his prostate. “ _Ah!_ ” 

The prince leaned down a moment later, his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear before he kissed carefully down the column of his throat. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” 

The words were strained, thick and rumbling against the hobbit’s neck. Then Fili drew back, straightening with his palm still splayed between the smaller man’s shoulder blades. Without warning he began to move, picking his pace right back up again until the bedframe groaned and protested beneath them. 

Bilbo struggled to push his face to the side, cheek plastered to the fine bedding that creased against his face. He could do nothing but grip the fabric and raise his hips; he was helpless to move against the delicious, brutal onslaught from behind him. Fili spread his fingers out across his back and pushed down harder, elbow locking with the effort. His other hand curled at the hobbit’s side, nails digging in hard. 

It was a suffocating sensation, like being trapped in entirely. Years ago it would have terrified Bilbo, at a time when the idea of leaving the safety of his hobbit hole was just a fleeting dream. Now, however…now it drove hot spikes of pleasure into his gut. He pressed his face down harder into the mattress, arching back with everything he could manage and just taking what he could not. 

“Ah, Fili, _Fili_!” He desperately pried one hand up off of the mattress, reaching out blindly for something, anything to anchor himself on. 

“Hey, hey easy now.” 

Kili reached towards him from the front, crawling forward and carefully taking his hand. Biblo squeezed over his fingers, unable to look up to see the young dwarf, but more than grateful for his comforting touch. “You look so good right now, both of you. I wish you could see it.” 

The hobbit sucked in a hard breath, air punched out of him with each punishing thrust. “I-” his tongue felt too heavy for his mouth, body burning with the swell of pleasure that rode over him like a wave, “oh, _oh_!” 

“Bilbo, Bilbo-” Fili’s hand dragged up from the hobbit’s back, fisting in his honey curls and pressing down, hard. His hips stuttered slightly, before he drove forward again with such a force and precision that Bilbo’s eyes started to water, his mouth falling open in a wet gasp. 

Each driving push slammed his body into the mattress beneath him, cock straining and painfully hard where it was trapped against his stomach. He whined and shifted his hips, trying in vain to gain some sort of control over the rhythm of their movement together. 

Gripping Kili’s hand iron tight he gave into the punishing motions of Fili behind him, struggling to hold back from the building itch of climax that threatened to consume him. Each time he rocked forward violently the friction of the mattress against his pinned cock was almost unbearable. He could feel the burn of arousal, building unchecked, and his whole body clenched in a violent shudder. 

“Oh, _oh damn I-_ ” Bilbo couldn’t finish the thought, his toes curling into the bedsheets while he squirmed desperately against the mattress. Pleasure punched into his gut, raging heat cresting in a blinding build that left him blinking through tears. “I think, I think I-”

“Do it.” Kili soothed, squeezing his hand right back, thumb brushing firmly over his whitened knuckles. 

“Yes.” Fili groaned and tugged at Bilbo’s hair, forcing his head up as the blond prince leaned down. He slid their faces together, lips skirting across the line of the hobbit’s cheek when he spoke. “Bring us both over… _come for me_.” 

“Ngh!” Bilbo trembled violently when his pleasure overwhelmed him, orgasm slamming through his frame with a force that knocked his vision white. He could feel his finger nails digging into Kili’s hand, his whole body clenching down violently over Fili in turn. He could do nothing to control it, helpless against the tide of sensation that seemed to leave him choking for breath. 

He could feel Fili stilling behind him, the blond’s fingers slowly easing from their grip on his hair, but Bilbo reached back with his free hand and clasped his wrist, holding him steady. “Keep going.” 

“ _Are you sure-_ ” 

“Positive, positive.” Bilbo whined, dizzy from his release but struck with a steely determination that had him thrusting his hips up and back against the still hard cock inside of him. He clenched down, body trembling hard and mouth open in a low groan. “ _I am at your service._ ” 

The sound Fili made was positively animal. He released his grip on Bilbo’s hair, dragging both of his hands back to dig into the hobbit’s hips and _push_. His thrusts were violent, messy, and just on the edge of _too much_ , but Bilbo took every last one. He moaned out his encouragement, egging the blond prince on until he could hardly take it anymore. Then just as he felt as though the overstimulation would wreck him completely, Fili made a sharp, desperate noise at his back and stilled. Heat splashed up within him, as familiar and enticing as the steady throb of the dwarf’s softening cock. 

“Oh _Aule_.” With a groan the prince dropped down firmly across Bilbo’s back, a solid weight of shivering muscle that blanketed over his smaller frame. “That was, that was-”

“ _Fantastic._ ” Kili chimed, his tone almost awe struck. 

“Hey, you stole my line.” Bilbo chuckled and just barely managed to get his elbows beneath him. Fili’s body was a firm bulk draped across him, yet still he managed to nudge himself up enough to offer the younger prince a warm, satisfied smile. 

“Sorry.” The archer did not even attempt to sound sheepish, his grin easy and his posture relaxed when he finally released Bilbo’s hand, sitting back against the mattress. “I will say it again though, _fantastic_. I demand frequent repeats.” 

“Frequent repeats that will have to wait m’ afraid.” Fili grumbled into the heated flesh of Bilbo’s shoulder blades. 

“Can we not think about that now?” The hobbit groaned, dropping his head back down and wiggling slightly under the blond prince’s weight. He glanced up at Kili and reached out to him with both hands. “I just want to enjoy the here and now. We can dwell on the days to come in the ‘morrow.” 

“Fair enough.” Kili took both of Bilbo’s hands, bending down to press his lips to each in turn. After a moment he eyed his brother, nudging at the older dwarf’s frame with his foot. “Oi, stop hogging our hobbit.” 

“M’not hogging, m’recovering.” Fili buried his bearded face into the Halfling’s soft flesh for a moment longer before he sighed, slowly lifting himself up and off of the smaller man. 

Bilbo hissed at the slight twinge of Fili’s cock leaving his body, his whole frame twitching with a shudder. Then Fili was curling up against his side, skin hot and slicked wet with sweat, leaving him feeling warm and sated in a way that he could not hope to describe. 

Taking his cue Kili shuffled back down the bed towards the pair, sliding up to Bilbo’s other side when the hobbit turned over onto his back. He let out a happy sigh and reached out for the brothers that wrapped about him. 

After they lay in silence for a time, calm, satisfied, just listening for the easy rhythm of each other’s breathing. Then Kili shifted, leaning up a touch to glance down at where Bilbo lay between them. 

“Should we not clean up?” He asked softly, reaching out to brush at the sweat slicked bangs, clinging to the hobbit’s forehead. 

“Eventually we will.” Bilbo assured the young prince softly, grabbing at him and dragging him down until his head rested on his chest. The hobbit let out a pleased hum once Kili settled, feeling Fili press up more firmly at his side. He turned to grin at the blond when he felt a whiskered kiss against his shoulder, his heart stuttering pleasantly in his chest. 

“For now, I am happy as we are.”

**TBC…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief little tidbit about how Law School and life has been going for me! 
> 
> No more injuries to speak of which is good! I have recovered fully from the concussion, and while I still have minor muscle problems from my whiplash, I am all but better! I will not be participating in ANY more extra-curricular obstacle courses from now on! haha. 
> 
> Part of why it took me so long to get this up is that I just finished going through my first round of law school evaluations! Scary stuff. From November until last week a had a number of written assignments, legal research, case comments and the like due, and of course I had my first taste of exams in December, including my first real Law mark! So needless to say I have been fairly distracted from my recreational writing. 
> 
> Unfortunately, despite one term under my belt, this next term is also shaping up to be one busy son of a bitch. 
> 
> I will keep plugging away at the chapters and try to get everything up as soon as possible, and I am also going to try and force myself to stick to a lower word count so that I can post updates more frequently. We'll see though, because apparently word limits are something I am HORRIBLE at committing too. 
> 
> Anyways that is enough TMI for now!
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with me, and for your fantastic show of support! You are all awesome. <3 
> 
> Hope you liked the update! And a Happy New Years!


	2. At the Head of the Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The meeting was no doubt about to begin. He had not left himself much room for error between tucking Frodo away with Ori in the library and arriving on time; yet now that he was finally in front of the intricately carved entrance way he found himself rooted to the spot._
> 
> _If this somehow went awry…_
> 
> _A hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts, and he smiled back at Bofur. “Sorry, I know we are late.”_
> 
> _“Aye, we are.” The dwarf offered him a shrug and a reassuring smile. “They won’ be starting without ya, so take yer time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I am running on a tight timeline tonight, but I finished proofing this chapter and I could not go without posting it a moment longer. 
> 
> I have been radio silent for a long time and for that I am so very very sorry. 
> 
> Real life continues to happen, it is ridiculous and wonderful, but I am not giving up on this story. 
> 
> It will be finished, that I will promise. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and understanding! 
> 
> I'll edit this later and add a chapter summary.

With a gusty sigh Bilbo tapped his quill against the parchment sprawled out at his front. Before him was the layout of Erebor’s expansive great hall; rows of roughly sketched benches splayed out at the front of a carefully drawn throne, marked with the small symbol of a crown. He had scribbled names in various spots along to parchment, copying them from the scrolls stacked up around him. 

He had known that the wedding would be an extravagant affair, but he had not anticipated the sheer number of people that would be in attendance. He had invited his folk from the shire, of course, and had accounted for the extensive kin of his dwarven family and friends. What he had not anticipated were those of elf and mankind who would be joining in their celebration. 

Reaching out to the side he scooped up one of the delicate scrolls, glancing over the list of various Rivendell elves until his eyes caught a familiar name. He felt a flush of heat creep across his cheeks and he beamed. The fair lady Arwen, would be travelling with her father to be in attendance on his special day. It had been years now since they had last visited Rivendell and Bilbo was beyond excited to be in her company once again. 

Even more amazing were the two, mighty elven lords who would join them under the Lonely Mountain. He flicked his gaze down the list until he came to a stop at the careful script that laid out Lord Elrond’s name in delicate print. 

It would be a day to remember, that he knew for certain. 

“ _Good afternoon_.” Strong fingers folded over his hunched shoulders. Squeezing, they kneading at the tight line of muscle in smooth, firm motions. 

A groan escaped him before he could stop it. He released the scroll in his grip, letting it roll off to the side of the table. “ _Fili_.” He hummed out, eyes shut and head dropping back. “What brings you down to the library?” 

“ _We just thought to stop by to say hello._ ” Another voice sounded from just off to the side and Bilbo smiled. 

“Kili too hm?” He let his head roll back, glancing over his shoulder to where the young archer stood. “Now how did the two of you manage to escape from under Balin’s watchful eye?” 

Kili looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head in an absent-minded manner. “Well-”

“ _They did no such thing_.” 

Balin stepped around from behind a nearby shelf, thumbing through the pages of a thick, leather bound book. “I am not so easy to shake, Master Bilbo.” He raised his brows in a significant manner, humming to himself while he strolled to an adjacent table to read. “I take my duties rather seriously, you know.” 

“Aye that we can tell.” Fili’s voice was weighed down by a sigh. It was clear that the prince was not too fond of this particular dwarven tradition. 

Bilbo chuckled fondly, shaking his head and patting Fili’s hand affectionately. “Do not begrudge him for merely doing his job.” 

“I begrudge him for doing his job too well.” 

“He is only protecting your honour.” Bilbo teased, reveling in the choked sound of indignation that Fili let out. The hobbit flashed Balin a wink, nodding at the returning smile when the older dwarf settled in at his table. 

Kili laughed and gave his brother a friendly shove, dropping down into a seat at Bilbo’s side. 

“Where is our Frodo?” The archer asked, glancing around and drumming his fingers on the table. “I have not seen my little shireling since first breakfast.” 

“Just around the corner.” Bilbo assured him, smiling softly. “Bofur has been teaching him khuzdul this morning. They are still curled up in the back of the library.” 

“Ah, I suppose I should just leave them to it.” Kili sounded reluctant but resigned, easing back in his seat with his lips pursed together in a frown. 

“Probably for the best.” The hobbit offered. “Last I checked they were quite caught up in the work.” 

Kili’s expression relaxed some at that, joy crinkling his eyes. “Frodo is really invested in khuzdul, isn’t he?” 

“Finds the whole thing rather exciting, to be honest.” Bilbo turned to smile at Fili when the older prince finally settled at the table. “Like learning a secret code of sorts.” 

“I felt the same way when I was small.” The blond dwarrow reached out, snatching at a piece of parchment and rolling it in his grasp. “Still do really. Our attachment to our language is a fierce one.” 

A warm burst of affection flooded through Bilbo’s chest. “I am so pleased that Thorin has allowed us to study it.” 

“How could he not?” Kili scoffed and shook his head lightly. “You are his kin.” 

“Officially even,” the hobbit grinned, before quickly correctly, “or, as soon as this month is over that is.” 

“Not soon enough if you ask me.” Fili commented, beginning to unfurl the parchment beneath his hands. “I would have it over with tomorrow if the decision was mine.” 

“I know you would.” Bilbo reached out to clasp both brothers’ hands, squeezing them thoughtfully. “Since that is, however, impossible, we will just have to be patient and keep ourselves occupied.” 

The hobbit straightened, releasing them and moving to smooth out the seating diagram spread out across the table. “For example, you two can occupy yourselves by helping me with wedding preparations.” 

“Alright, alright.” Kili rolled his eyes, the force of the gesture lost in the way his lips curled up into a smile. “Only if I can stick Uncle Thorin in the middle of Thranduil and Olvar of the Iron Hills.” 

Fili made a bright noise at that, drumming his hands on the table and flashing his brother a conspiratorial smile. “Brilliant! Olvar, that old busy body, will be chatting Uncle’s ear off all night.” 

“You will do no such thing.” Bilbo let out a sharp laugh and shook his head, hitching himself up on his elbows on the table. “Really now, if you two could take this seriously, just for the moment.” 

“Oh, but of course.” Kili teased, reaching under the table to nudge the hobbit affectionately with his foot. 

Despite their teasing, the princes turned out to be more of a help than Bilbo would have expected. With their knowledge of blood lines and dwarven politics they had the chart finished without much fuss. 

Frodo too had wandered back over eventually and settled into Kili’s lap, sitting quietly with his hands resting on the table. Bofur came by just behind the child, but merely nodded his head in greeting before moving over to join Balin at the far table. 

Their young shireling showed them an incredible amount of patience. He sat quietly, kicking his feet and grabbing at Kili’s hands. The young prince managed to occupy Frodo easily enough, but even still he eventually began to squirm. 

They finished just in time as Frodo’s energy got the best of him. Kili rose from the table and gently eased him to the ground, where the shireling immediately took off. He scurried over towards Bofur, coming up to the miner and grabbing at the book in his hands. 

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile after him, rolling up the scrolls at his front. “Frodo it is not polite to pester someone when they are reading.” 

“Sorry Uncle Bilbo.” Frodo released his grip on the book, looking sheepish.

“Aye, pay no mind to that little one,” Bofur shot back, his tone teasing, “I am always glad for yer company.” 

Frodo made a noise of delight and reached up for Bofur’s hat. The dwarf obliged without hesitation, plopping it down over the shireling’s head and getting a bright, happy noise in response. 

Bilbo shook his head with a light chuckle. He turned back to his papers, accepting the scrolls as Fili handed them his way. 

“Are you still planning on attending the meeting this afternoon?” 

“Hm?” The hobbit glanced up to Fili, tucking the scrolls up under his arm. “Ah, yes. That I am. First, however, I will have to escort the little one down to the kitchens. Bombur promised a cooking lesson to occupy him for the afternoon.” 

“We are making tarts!” Frodo exclaimed. Even from across the room the mention of Bombur managed to catch the small hobbitling’s attention. “Tarts, tarts!” 

“Well, that _does_ sound exciting.” Kili pushed his chair back from the table. “Do I get a tart later little one?” 

“Of course!” Frodo exclaimed quite seriously. “You can have as many as you want.” 

“I can?” Kili gasped, pressing a hand to his chest and making his way over towards the shireling. 

“Mhm! You can have-” Frodo seemed to think about it for a moment, before he thrust his hand forward, a bright smile across his features, “five!” 

“Five _whole_ tarts?” Fili made a disapproving noise from where he was helping Bilbo clear off the table. “My my Bilbo, it appears we have found our young Frodo’s favourite.” 

The older hobbit let out a mock noise of despair. “It was only a matter of time.” 

The child seemed startled, pushing away from Bofur, the dwarf’s hat still draped over his tiny head. “No, no Uncle Bilbo!” He grabbed Kili’s hand and dragged him over until all four of them were standing together. “You are all my favourite.” 

Frodo’s tone was so serious that Bilbo couldn’t help the sharp bite of laughter that escaped him. “Thank you little one, you are very kind.” He reached down to give the child’s cheek an affectionate pat. “Now, do you feel like being our guide to the kitchens?” 

“Oh, oh yes please.” The shireling’s eyes lit up and a bright grin slid across his features. 

“You remember the way then?” Bilbo flashed his nephew a pointed look but was unable to keep back the twitching edge of a smile.

“Yep! Mister Ori has been showing me maps, so I can learn Erebor.” He chimed to Fili and Kili with a bright grin. 

Kili crouched down to Frodo’s level, positively beaming. “Oh, that sounds like quite the challenge.”

“Mm,” Frodo shook his head, not looking the least bit bashful or apologetic, “no it will be fine! I used to know all the streets in the shire after all.” 

The princes both laughed at that, Kili pressing a hand down over his mouth to hide his bright smile. “Well then, perhaps you can start guiding us around for a change.” 

Bilbo took in Frodo’s responding grin with a warm spark of happiness in his chest. Over the past two years in Erebor they had been slowly and steadily familiarizing Frodo with his new environment. The shireling took to his new home incredibly well. 

With a pleased hum he reached for his sheath on the table and smiled when he realized that Fili had gotten there first. “Why thank you.” 

Fili gestured for him to lift his arms and began to wind the sheath’s belt about his hips. He never broke eye-contact, gaze burning straight through him while he expertly fastened his blade at his side. When he finished he lingered, fingers tracing back around until he fit his palms neatly against the small of Bilbo’s back. On instinct the hobbit reached to wrap his arms around Fili’s neck, arching up into the hug with a breathy sigh. 

“ _Ahem_.” 

Tensing Bilbo placed his hands firmly on Fili’s chest, wiggling back out of the prince’s grip until they were an arm’s length apart. Sure enough, when he glanced to the side he caught Balin’s stern expression, Bofur looking mildly apologetic at his side. 

The hobbit offered them a sheepish smile, drawing away from Fili until only their hands remained clasped. “Well I suppose I shall see you at the meeting, hm?” 

The prince stepped back, picking up Bilbo’s hand to place a kiss across the nuckles. “But of course.” He winked up through his mane of blond hair and the hobbit flushed brightly. “Keep out of trouble until then, hm?” 

Bilbo laughed, trying to shake off his blush while he finally stepped away from where Fili stood. “I’ll try my best.” 

“Ah, is that you two off then?” Kili leaned forward where he was crouched at Frodo’s side, pressing his lips chastely to the top of the shireling’s head. 

“I always keep Uncle Bilbo out of trouble.” Frodo assured the archer with a sharp nod of his head. “And I get to make tarts for everyone.” 

“Sounds like a good plan to me little one.” Kili smiled, tearing his attention away from the child just long enough to press his lips to Bilbo’s cheek in a chaste kiss. “See you shortly?” 

“Hmm.” Bilbo hummed contentedly, beaming up at Kili when the prince pulled away. After a moment he turned his attention to Frodo, noting that Bofur had sidled up to the child’s side.

“Shall we?” He nodded towards the door and took a step forward, flashing Fili and Kili one last warm smile. 

Frodo happily led the way down the long corridors towards the kitchens, babbling on about what Bomber had shown him last time. His nephew, as any proper hobbit should, had developed an adoration for cooking that rivaled his love of food. 

Bilbo was proud of the way that the child had managed to merge so seamlessly into dwarven culture, but at the same time there was a part of him that felt guilty for dragging him so far away from his roots. It was that twinge of guilt which drove Bilbo to ensure that Frodo learned not only the culture of the dwarves whom he now called family, but also that of the hobbits back home. 

Whenever he had a moment to spare Bilbo was jotting down notes about the practices and traditions that he had grown up with in the shire. Already he had managed to scribble out a booklet of his favourite recipes, passed on from his mother and her mother before her. Bombur had been surprisingly receptive to the idea of preparing hobbit dishes, and had tasked himself with ensuring that Frodo had plenty of practice with each and every one. Normally if he had the chance, Bilbo would join them in the kitchens. He was always eager to be a part of Frodo’s constant learning. 

With the wedding quickly approaching, however, he found he had less and less time to spare for small pleasures like cooking. 

At first he had been rather put off by his lack of time for the kitchens. However as work began to pile up he was simply glad that Frodo had a safe place to spend time where he could learn from people who cared for him. It kept the shireling occupied, and it freed up Bilbo’s schedule to focus on the tasks that he was charged with.

“ _Uncle Bilbo guess what I learned today_!” 

The bright voice dragged him out of his thoughts and Bilbo smiled, glancing up to where Frodo had come to a stop in front of him. The shireling was clutching the satchel that Fili had retrieved for him, a remnant of the prince’s own childhood. “Well then now, what did you learn?” 

With a bright grin the child waved the bag at Bilbo. “Zhâshel.” He exclaimed brightly. “Guess what it means, guess what it means!” 

“What does it mean little one?” 

“This!” Frodo gave the satchel another hard shake. “It means ‘the bag’, right Mister Bofur?” 

“Ah, close little one, but not quite.” Bofur stepped up to walk along side Frodo when the child turned to continue down the hall, leaving Bilbo trailing in their wake. “Zhâsh is the word for bag, Zhâshel means something more like, ‘the bag of all the bags’.” 

“Ah, so it’s plural.” Bilbo piped up, squinting at the ceiling while he tried to recall what Fili and Kili had told him during his last lesson. 

“Mm, yes and no. You see, in khuzdul the root of the word-”

Bofur cut off short when a group of dwarves stepped out suddenly from an adjacent corridor. 

Bilbo startled at the sight of them, reaching out from where he stood a few feet back. “Careful-!” 

The warning came in the nick of time. 

Bofur lunged forward, hat toppling from his head. With a sharp intake of breath the dwarf managed to get his arms wrapped around Frodo's waist.

"Easy there lil' one!" He scooped the child up against his chest, turning to the side to avoid the group of dwarves that stumbled towards them. 

Frodo's grip on his bag slipped at the motion, the fabric sliding out from between his fingers. Clutching to Bofur's shoulders he let out a sharp sound of distress. "Zhâsh!" 

Tension snapped through them like a cord when the newcomers stiffened, expressions darkening. A heavy silence settled over them and the very air in the hall seemed to still. 

He didn’t recognize the pair, but that was nothing new. The city was expansive, and they received more and more guests with each passing week. The garb that they donned was different than anything Bilbo had seen in the two years since he had settled in Erebor. Even their braids were distinct, the thick plaits drawn together into a single, fat knot at the tip of their beards. They towered effortlessly over Bilbo, standing a good head and shoulders above him.

Their expressions were all the more daunting. They scowled, thick brows dropped down over their hard set eyes. Bilbo could practically feel the animosity building in their gazes.

Then without warning the smaller dwarf took an angry step towards Frodo, snarling out something that Bilbo couldn’t quite catch. 

Bofur reacted immediately. He turned and hunched over Frodo, grasping at the back of the shireling's head to tuck him up against his shoulder. In the same breath Bilbo had launched himself between them, facing the stranger down with his hand resting dangerously on Sting's hilt.

The motion gave the dwarrow pause and he stared him down, teeth gritted together in a hard line. “ _You dare_ …”

“I have never been forced to draw inside the city.” When the hobbit spoke his tone was calm and even. He shifted to widen his stance, muscles tensed and ready. “I am quite proud of that fact.” 

The stranger positively snarled and for a moment it looked as though he was reaching for the twin axes at his waist. Bilbo tensed and edged Sting just out of its sheath. Before either of them could go further, however, the younger dwarf stepped forward. 

“There is no need for violence.” His voice was cold and even. He reached out to his companion, clasping a hand firmly over his shoulder. “My father and I will be on our way.” 

“Aye, that would be for the best.” Bofur’s gaze narrowed and he straightened. His hands stayed curled protectively around Frodo, pressing him tightly into his chest. 

Their would-be attacker made a sharp noise at the back of his throat, before seemingly complying with his companion’s request. For a moment they stood there in silence, the younger of the pair staring Bilbo down with an unreadable expression across his face. Then after what seemed like ages he finally nodded, an unsettling smile curling up his features. 

Tense, Bilbo glanced over at Bofur, nodding at him to move forward around them. The dwarf hesitated for a moment before he carefully pushed forward down the hall. Frodo was silent, wrapped up against Bofur’s shoulder. Even from where he was standing Bilbo could see the hard shiver that wracked the tiny shireling’s spine. 

He forced himself to look away, focussing instead on the dwarrow at his front. 

He said nothing, and after a long moment the pair began to move, walking past Bofur and Frodo and towards where Bilbo stood. The hobbit stared them down evenly, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He kept one hand on Sting, ready at a moment’s notice. 

Neither dwarf seemed inclined to continue the spat, walking by him without so much of a glance. He waited a beat before he released his grip on Sting, allowing the blade to drop back fully in the sheath. 

With a sigh he bent to retrieve Bofur’s hat, allowing himself to relax just a moment too soon. His fingers had barely brushed the fabric when he was hauled backwards, a hard, calloused hand curled around his elbow. He just about lost his balance, barely managing to keep his feet beneath him when the old dwarf yanked him forward nose to nose. 

Bilbo made a sharp noise of surprise, just barely keeping his toes on the ground. “Wha-”

“That language is sacred, _Halfling_.” When he spoke he spat out the words like venom. He dragged him up further, the hobbit hanging stiff in his grip. “It is not for the likes of your, or your _spawn_.” 

Bilbo bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. It took everything he had to hold back the snarling response that built on his tongue when the dwarf released him suddenly, causing him to stumble back. 

“ _Bilbo!_ ” 

Bofur came dashing up behind him, still clutching Frodo to his chest. He managed to work a hand free to rest protectively on Bilbo’s shoulder, drawing the hobbit back and glaring daggers at the pair in front of them. 

“Y’ever touch Master Baggins again, and it won’ be us ye’ll have to reckon with.” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice, snarling something out at them in khuzdul. 

Both dwarrow tensed at the sound of it, their eyes narrowing before they slowly turned to leave. 

Neither Bilbo nor Bofur moved an inch in that moment. They watched silently until the dwarves had rounded the next corner; well out of sight, but not out of mind. With a hard swallow the hobbit dipped down, drawing out of Bofur’s grip in order to scoop up their discarded things. 

After dusting everything off he plopped the hat back on his friend’s head, hitching Frodo’s bag over his shoulder. “Everything is okay little one.” He leaned in to run his hand through his nephew’s hair, voice soft. “That was a touch scary hm?” 

Frodo finally peeled himself back from where he had his face wedged in Bofur’s shoulder. His mouth was tugged down in a hard frown. He didn’t speak, simply nodded his head with a small tremor and reached out for his uncle.

“Ah dear.” Bilbo clucked his tongue and hitched the child up into his arms. “Let’s forget this awful mess and continue on to make tarts with Mister Bombur, hm? That would be fun.” 

Frodo nodded from where he had his arms slung around his Uncle’s neck. He was no longer hiding, but his expression was still pinched with worry. For such a small thing he had seen his fair share of bloodshed; it was no wonder he was so rattled. 

Bilbo licked his lips and turned his gaze to Bofur, Frodo tucked under his chin. “What _was_ it that you said to them back there?” 

“Oh,” The dwarf shot him a cheeky grin and nudged him gently, “just friendly reminded them that our King is a rather dangerous enemy to make.” 

The hobbit flushed and pulled Frodo closer to his chest. A few years back he would have never thought that he would be friends with Thorin again. Now, knowing how far the King would go to protect him, he couldn’t help the warm bubble of happiness that shot through him. 

“ _Yer not too rattled by all that are ye?_ ” 

Bilbo blinked over at Bofur, already shaking his head. “Annoyed yes,” especially with the way they had terrorized his nephew, “but I am not so easily intimidated.” 

“Mm.” The dwarf scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Ye’ll still tell the princes about it?” 

“Of course.” He wasn’t one to keep anything from Fili and Kili if he could help it. “For now, however, I would rather focus on getting Frodo settled and heading back for that meeting.” 

The shireling made a noise at his throat, curling closer and dropping his arms down Bilbo’s back. “M’baking tarts with Bombur.” 

“Right lil’ one.” Bofur stepped behind Bilbo to grin at Frodo and the child seemed to relax somewhat. “Ye’ll leave some for yer Uncle and I?” 

“Of course.” Frodo chimed and shifted back up against Bilbo’s shoulders. 

The older hobbit let out a relieved breath, his mind wandering back to the two dwarrow in the hall. Their behaviour had been unsettling. However if he was honest with himself, it had not been all that unexpected. 

The coming weeks were exciting, that there was no denying. They were also, however, incredibly daunting. He would have to answer to the entire kingdom before his wedding day. There was no doubt in his mind that he would run into more animosity, and that he would spend a lot of time justifying himself to people who saw him as an outsider. 

Bilbo gave his head a hard shake. He refused to let himself dwell on things that could not be helped. Instead he picked up his pace, chiming in on Frodo’s conversation about different tart flavours and allowing himself to leave the afternoon’s conflict behind him. 

\-----

In the end, the first seven days went by in a flash. It was as if Bilbo had blinked and suddenly the day was upon him; in not ten minutes time he would be standing before the counsel, on which Dáin Ironfoot was the day’s guest of honour. 

It was not as though Bilbo was afraid of Dáin, but he knew the dwarf was strong and influential. His opinion would be essential to assure public approval of their union. 

This evening was crucial. 

Which was why Bilbo found himself standing at a loss in front of the doors of the massive private council chambers. 

The meeting was no doubt about to begin. He had not left himself much room for error between tucking Frodo away with Ori in the library and arriving on time; yet now that he was finally in front of the intricately carved entrance way he found himself rooted to the spot. 

_If this somehow went awry…_

A hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts, and he smiled back at Bofur. “Sorry, I know we are late.”

“Aye, we are.” The dwarf offered him a shrug and a reassuring smile. “They won’ be starting without ya, so take yer time.” 

Bilbo nodded, taking in a deep breath and looking to the doors at his front. He had no idea exactly how many dwarven nobles had gathered in the room beyond, but he knew they were undoubtedly restless. Being tardy would win him no favours. 

“No, we can go.” He swallowed and stepped forward, steeling himself to push open the massive doors. 

The creak of the metal was agonizingly loud, cutting off the dull murmur of noise as the room seemed to turn at once to stare him down. 

There weren’t as many as he had originally suspected, however the massive table was already filled with nobles, others standing or sitting along the walls. At the very back of the room sat Thorin, next to the empty seat at the head of the table. Fili and Kili sat next to their uncle, Dis sitting directly across. The chair was no doubt his to take. 

With a hard swallow Bilbo straightened his shoulders and locked his jaw. The first step forward was tentative, the next, more sure. He made his way quickly, but calmly around the table, head up and his eyes fixed firmly on the vacant seat. 

He could feel the gazes of the people in the room, their attention rapt while they watched his every move. With each step he prayed silently that he would not stumble. 

By the graces of the gods he made it to the far end of the room without incident. 

Thorin regarded him with a smile and stood. Bilbo returned the expression and nodded, watching with a bright grin when Fili and Kili rose to stand in turn. He angled towards them, allowing the older prince to catch his hand and draw him close. 

Their brows touched together and the hobbit let his eyes drift shut. It was a ceremonial gesture, but it was comforting in a way that Bilbo could not express. He took in a deep breath, wallowing in Fili’s warm, clean scent; the sharp spice of cinnamon mixing in with the tang of iron and leather. 

He drew back and met Fili’s eyes, quelling the urge to laugh when he got a wink in return. 

Positively beaming he turned to Kili, the archer already reaching out to him. They pressed their faces close, Bilbo shaking his head slightly when the prince mouthed ‘good luck.’ 

By the time he moved on to Thorin, first bowing to show his respect, and then accepting his hand when it was offered. They clasped arms and shared a smile. It spoke volumes of how their relationship had changed. In the two short years since he had returned to Erebor, Thorin had once again become one of his dearest friends. It was more relieving than Bilbo could have ever expected. 

He gave the King’s forearm one last squeeze before he finally pulled away. 

Dis was the last to formally great him, her expression comforting and calm. He took her hand when it was offered and raised it to his lips. With a chaste kiss he stepped back, drawing out the chair once more so that she could sit. She flashed him a knowing smile, nodding at him to take his own seat. 

The chair at the head of the table had already been pulled out, Thorin standing beside it, one hand on the back. With one last deep breath Bilbo stepped forward. He dropped down into his chair, finally forcing his gaze to the unfamiliar faces, peppered across the table. 

He recognized perhaps a handful of the guests, including Dáin. The dwarf sat tall among a group of aged counsellors, eyes locked firmly on Bilbo’s frame. He was as intimidating as Bilbo remembered. 

“ _Now that we are in full attendance, we can begin-_ “

The sound of Thorin’s voice dragged his attention back to the King at his side. He stood tall when he addressed the room, his back straight and eyes piercing. 

“Today, the royal intended will address any inquiry from the room at large. _However_ let me assure you, there are restrictions to which _everyone_ will be expected to adhere.” 

There was some shifting down the table, dwarves whispering to one another in hushed tones. Thorin seemed to take notice, but he paid it little mind. He just carried on, looking if anything all the more severe. 

“There will be order at this table _at all times_. While in session I will be the one to determine speaking order.” 

The shifting erupted into a rumbling murmur and Bilbo forced himself not to look around. He kept his gaze on Thorin and sat as tall as he could in his seat. It was easy enough to keep his expression neutral and calm, but he couldn’t stop his hands from curling into tight fists in his lap. 

The King bristled at the growing humm of voices, ringing throughout the large chambers. He scowled and dropped his hand to the table with an echoing bang. The noise startled Bilbo so badly that he jumped in his seat, composure momentarily lost. To his relief it seemed the rest of the table sat shocked and almost eerily silent. 

“Am I not King here? Did I not just say I expected order? When I speak, or when anyone speaks for that matter, they will be treated with respect and all _commentary_ will be saved until they have finished.” 

Thorin’s voice echoed down the table, booming in the resounding silence. A few dwaves shifted, someone coughed, but no one made a move to speak. 

Seemingly satisfied the King straightened up and offered the table a small smile. “I know you all fear that you will not get the chance to voice your concerns. I can promise that we will do our best to see to as many of you as we can, however Master Baggins is a busy man. He is a parent, a strategist, and he serves as diplomat for our people, forging for us alliances we have not seen since the desolation of Smaug.” 

Bilbo kept his expression neutral, but there was no helping the hot flush that spread across his ears. He was embarrassed, there was no denying it; however another part of him was pleased. It took some effort to fight back the quirk of a smile. He forced himself to look back to Thorin, ignoring the eyes that bore into the back of his skull. 

“You will have two hours to put forward your concerns. In that time I expect you will keep your queries short, relevant, and to the point. This will ensure that everyone will have the chance to speak.” The King levelled the room with a pointed look and crossed his arms. “Today’s dialogue will remain respectful and appropriate. Under no circumstances will questions of a personal nature be raised at this meeting.” 

With a hard start Bilbo bit down on his lip, stifling the urge to curl in on himself. The heat of his blush burned bright across his cheeks and he glanced down at the table. 

“I can assure the room that our customs are being carried out to the letter. If anyone has concerns on a topic of this nature, they can make an appointment with me at another time. This is not negotiable.”

Bilbo could not bring himself to raise his gaze from the table. Even when he had lived in the shire, the well of gossip that it was, he had always found the idea of people’s concern with his… _personal affairs_ to be uncomfortable. That, however, had been a relatively small community of people whom he had known all his life. Here in Erebor he would see no friendly faces in the crowd. 

There was an entire kingdom to answer to. 

Distantly he registered that Thorin had continued speaking, but he could not draw himself out of his thoughts. The incident in the halls still gnawed at his mind. Days later felt fresh; the startling rage and disgust those two dwarves had shown him. There was no helping the pang of fear that perhaps it was just a glimpse of the sentiment he would face in the coming weeks. Here he was, a complete stranger, snatching up not one but both crown princes.

Subconsciously he glanced past Thorin to where the brothers sat. Fili’s gaze was locked unwavering on his Uncle, expression serious and focussed. Kili on the other hand did not look so sure. His gaze was trained on the crowd down the massive table, his brows pinching in a frown. 

They had been a great comfort in the past few days. Predictably they were less than pleased to hear about his run in with the unfamiliar dwarves. The full day after the incident they had insisted on accompanying him on all of his errands throughout the kingdom. Bilbo had found it pleasant and endearing, if not a touch unnecessary.

When he began dragging his gaze towards Thorin he was startled to see Fili smiling slyly back at him. The blond leaned forward slightly, glancing around the table before drawing a hand to his chin. He scratched his beard, keeping Bilbo’s gaze when he dragged his hand up to his lips. Slowly, casually, he tapped at his mouth. 

Bilbo had to bite back a sharp noise of surprise that built in his throat. His mouth dropped open and his lower lip was released, stinging and red. His skin flushed hot and he offered Fili a sheepish smile. The blond nodded to him. He sat back in his chair again and offered Bilbo a wink, mouthing a quick, silent ‘ _relax_.’

With a nod of his own Bilbo sat back, already feeling more at ease than he had all day. He had dealt with situations far more strenuous than this.

“-without further hesitation, I will open the floor…” 

Snapping to attention Bilbo straightened in his seat and looked dead ahead. The whole table had their attention trained on him. Nothing he did would go unseen, nothing he said unheard; he had to be vigilant. 

At first the room seemed either hesitant or content not to speak. It took a few moments before a dwarf at the far end of the table stood. She paused for permission from Thorin before inquiring into Bilbo’s family line. He managed a stiff response which was surprisingly taken in stride. 

The next question was easier, and the next, and the next. 

Before Bilbo knew it he had settled into some semblance of a routine. He relaxed where he sat, resting his hands on the table and speaking in a calm, even tone. The first queries seemed to be about the nature of hobbits in general. They were curious and harmless, some even humorous. Bilbo had been more than happy to describe his home and culture, noting with pleasure that some of the dwarves seemed to smile and nod along. 

Then finally Dáin moved to stand, his chair scraping roughly against the smooth rock floor. Thorin immediately nodded to his ally, his expression softening slightly. The Ironfoot dwarf returned the nod, lips quirking up into a half smile before his attention shifted to Bilbo. 

“Master Baggins.” He offered by way of greeting. 

The hobbit blinked for a moment, taken aback, before he leaned forward and dipped his head respectfully. “Lord Dáin. I am so pleased that you could make it.” 

“Mm.” The dwarf made an absent noise of agreement and leaned forward on his elebows. “Master Baggins, I know there is much you have yet to learn about our people, so let me explain to you one of our oldest political customs.” 

Bilbo remained silent, listening carefully where he was perched on the edge of his seat. 

“You see, marriage is not common for our kind. However it is none the less crucial for our royal kin. We use it as a tool for negotiation, to build alliances, and to foster trade agreements with our neighbours.” Dáin continued, his tone even and casual. “I think many of my comrades share in my curiosity, as to what you have to offer our kingdom in your union with our princes.” 

Immediately Bilbo could sense Fili and Kili stiffening from where they sat just down the table. He fought to keep his gaze forward and resist the urge to check on the brothers. Instead he took a deep breath, licking his lips and mulling over his answer. 

“I may not be of royal blood,” he began, carefully weighing his words, “and I may not carry any fancy titles.” 

He took a deep breath, straightening in his seat, laying his hands on the table and rising to stand. The move was not as impressive as he would have liked, he was short even by dwarven standards, but it made him feel grounded and strong. 

Dragging his hands back to brace on the edge of the table he glanced around the room, head high and expression fierce. “What I bring to this Kingdom, and what I could bring to all of you, is _perspective_.”

There was a low murmur that bubbled at the end of the table but Bilbo pressed on, determined. 

“I have come from a world without biased, and I have travelled through the lands of men and elf alike. I have used my own, carefully forged alliances to protect the people who I have considered family for so long-” He paused and took a slow breath, starting again. ”Thirteen dwarves dragged me out of my hobbit-hole and took me away on a quest. They became family to me, and I helped them take back their home. _This_ kingdom.” 

“I have made my mistakes, and I have made my amends.” He stated pointedly, not bothering to leave time for the room to react. “I saved the lives of the King, _and_ the royal princes. I returned the _Arkenstone_ , and I have fostered alliances that have helped to protect our trade routes as well as our relations with the neighbouring men and elf kind.” 

He raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room. “If anyone wishes for me to expand on this matter, feel free to speak up. However, for the sake of time Lord Dáin, may I ask if my answer is to your satisfaction?” 

The dwarf was quiet for a moment. He looked to Bilbo thoughtfully and scratched at his thick, braided beard. Then his eyes crinkled and he offered the hobbit a surprisingly warm smile. “I am satisfied, yes.” He nodded and settled back into his chair. “Thank you Master Baggins.” 

A gusting sigh of relief escaped Bilbo before he could stop it. He smiled at Dáin, pulling his chair forward and crawling back into it once more. 

He had only just managed to settle back into his seat when a screeching noise sounded from down the table. A dwarf had pushed back his chair, violently, and was moving to rise. 

“Lord Hunder of the Blue Mountains.” Thorin nodded to a man at the far end of the table, watching him stand with narrowing eyes. 

The King’s reaction immediately set Bilbo on edge. He fixed his attention on the stranger and gave a hard swallow. Something about this Hunder just did not sit well with him. 

The dwarf cleared his throat, bushy black eyebrows dropped low over piercing, dark eyes. “I have heard many a _rumour_ as to the feats of this…”

He paused, and Bilbo could practically hear the word Halfling on his weighted silence. 

“Of Mister Baggins here.” The dwarf corrected himself after a moment, his steely gaze fixed on Thorin while he spoke. “I am not questioning the alliances you have fostered. However, I for one, was not here to witness these rumoured _heroic_ acts.” 

“ _Hunder-_ “ Thorin growled, his tone warning. 

Fili was deadly still, his body tense and one hand clasped firmly on Kili’s shoulder. The younger prince was in a state. Both of his hands were wrapped around of edge of the table, his knuckles turning white with strain. 

“Thorin.” Bilbo gently lay his hand on the King’s forearm, waiting for their gazes to meet. Once he had his attention he offered him a firm nod. “Let Hunder speak.” 

With that he settled back in his seat, turning his attention to the dwarf down the table. To his credit, Lord Hunder waited courteously for Bilbo to meet his gaze once more. His posture seemed less stiff and when he spoke again his tone was pleasantly neutral. “I believe it would benefit all of our kingdoms if we could see some _proof_ of your hand in Erebor’s miraculous resurrection.” 

Everyone in the room began to look about nervously, speaking in hushed tones that echoed throughout the room. The last thing Bilbo wanted was to force Thorin to once again step in on his behalf. So he immediately cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on Hunder when he spoke. “You want to know what _truly_ happened that day?” 

The room went silent, and Hunder simply nodded. “Aye.” 

“Well then, I certainly have evidence enough to quell your concerns.” Bilbo fought back a grumble and raised his hand up to his shoulder, rubbing at the stiff spot beneath his tunic. “First however, I’d best dispel of any rumours floating about.” 

“First off, I did initially trade the Arkenstone in exchange for the aid of the elves and men folk. I have since arranged, at my _own_ expense, to have the stone returned. For the sake of time, this is the last I will speak on this point.” He sighed, trying to find the quickest way to explain the events of that day, years ago. “I had been turned out by Thorin, with good reason, but I would never dream of leaving the people I loved.” 

“I stayed, and I watched Thorin fall. I watched Fili and Kili-” a lump caught in his throat and he fought to keep his voice even, “I watched them all fall, so I sought out the only person I thought could help; Thranduil.” 

“And why,” Hunder interrupted, though his voice was not unkind, “did the Elf King come to the aid of Dwarf kind that day? Why, when they sat by and allowed desolation to fall on this very mountain-” 

“ _I took an arrow for him._ ” Bilbo stated bluntly, cutting Hunder off short. He shook his head with a nostalgic chuckle. “Straight through the shoulder, and by the gods it hurt.” 

“Yet in the end, it was worth it, because it saved my family; because it saved their _home_ -” he paused, his gaze narrowing on Hunder, “despite this, I know my word is not enough. You want to see for yourself.” 

Dís made a disapproving noise at his side, looking to Thorin imploringly. “That is hardly appropriate-”

“The decision is not mine to make.” Thorin offered with a helpless shrug. “I trust Bilbo’s judgement.” 

The hobbit smiled at him and nodded, turning his attention to Hunder once more. “Well?” 

For a moment nothing was said, until finally the dwarrow nodded, scratching at his chin. “That would satisfy me, yes.” 

“Very will then.” Bilbo huffed and pushed back his chair. He began walking towards where Hunder sat, ignoring the rush of murmuring that followed at his heels. He tried to keep his expression calm, but there was no fighting his annoyance. Grumbling and muttering he fiddled with the fastenings of his formal tunic. It had been such a hassle to get the darn thing on, but for the sake of time he was more than willing to make the sacrifice. 

After a few moments of fidgeting and fumbling with clasps and buckles he managed to peel his top down and away. It hung where it was belted at his waist, hiding the worst of some of his scars. No sooner had he bared his chest did he finally come to a stop. 

Hunder turned in his seat, his gaze already fixed on the puckered, paling scar tissue that spanned down to his collar bone. “It was no small arrow.” He assured the dwarf pointedly, both brows raised. “I was injured, and I was banished, but the King survived. _My boys_ survived. That made everything worthwhile.” 

Silence weighed across the room and Bilbo stood with his chin held high. This time he met the gazes head on, glancing around before finally stepping back and dragging his tunic up and over his shoulders. “For the sake of my dignity, further inquiry into any of my scars will not be addressed at this table. I have no desire to strip for the sake of your collective peace of mind.” 

With that he turned on heel and started back towards the head of the table, buttoning up his top. By the time he made it to the seat it was apparent that both princes were beyond pleased with him. Kili was positively beaming, and Fili’s expression was nothing short of smug. 

Bilbo dragged himself back into his chair, settling with a gusty sigh. “Before we continue I would like to point out that I will not be leaving this seat again until I am walking off to supper.”

He left no room for argument, settling back into his seat and fussing with the wrinkles in his outfit. Thorin chimed in without missing a beat, taking the next speaker and moving the discussion along. 

\---

Chairs scraped all around them, the table rising almost in unison to exit the massive room. Bilbo sat at the end of the table, silently taking in the hours that had just passed. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he had his hands folded tightly in his lap. It was a great deal to take in, but somehow he felt as though the meeting had come to a rather amicable end. 

No one had shown him any distaste or disdain; he had been treated with the respect that was warranted of any dwarf in his position. 

_It was over._

Bilbo had to fight not to sag in relief, a steady smile creeping across his features. At this point in his life, he should have known that he could handle such an event. Really after everything he had been through in the past, this seemed astoundingly straight forward. It had been some time since he had left the shire, but he was no stranger to defending himself against gossip and rumour. With this now behind him, he felt his confidence steadily creeping back. 

“ _Bilbo_?”

The hobbit started a little, chuckling to himself as he glanced up to Fili at his side. “Sorry, touch lost in thought there.” 

“I could tell.” The prince let out a light laugh, reaching down to take Bilbo’s hand, helping him down out of his seat. “By your smile, I take it you realize this went _unbelievably_ well.” 

Bilbo beamed, scratching the back of his head and moving with Fili towards the doors at the far end of the room. “That it did.” 

“Really, you were amazing. You never lost your composure.” The blond stepped a respectable distance away from him, unsupervised as they were, and crossed his arms behind his back. “Better than all of us really.” 

“Speaking of,” Bilbo glanced around, frowning when he could not pick out Kili in the thinning crowd, “where is our young prince?”

“Ah, Thorin pulled him aside as soon as we were adjourned.” Fili didn’t sound concerned, slowing when they reached the crowd making its way out to the hall. “To ease his nerves I am sure. The meeting really set him on edge. The nature of some of the questions did not sit well with him.” 

_Lord Hunder’s in particular no doubt._ It was good that Thorin was talking to him. The king would help to set his mind at ease.

“I take it you both will join us for supper then?” He glanced to the prince while they moved out of the room and into the crowd dispensing down the halls. 

“Of course.” Fili chuckled, and stepped into Bilbo a little bit. He bumped their shoulders together affectionately and grinned at him. “How else will we gloat about you to Frodo?” 

“Oh no, don’t you be filling his head with tall tales.” The hobbit warned. “I did nothing so grand you need to go bragging to my nephew.” 

“Hm, we shall see.” Flashing him a cheeky grin the prince nodded his head off to the side, drawing Bilbo’s attention. “Speaking of Kili-”

Thorin stood with his young nephew, holding him by his shoulders and speaking with him evenly. The king had a smile on his face, looking relaxed and at ease. 

Almost subconsciously Bilbo found himself walking towards the pair, his gaze focussed on Kili’s back. 

Then Thorin looked up, catching his eye and nodding knowingly. He stepped back from the prince, excusing himself with an affectionate ruffle of Kili’s hair. When his Uncle moved away the dwarf turned, glancing around until his gaze fell on the hobbit where he stood with his brother. 

“Bilbo, you were wonderful.” Kili came up to them at a light jog, looking far more at ease than he had all day. They clasped hands lightly when he reached them, but the young prince knowing well enough to draw away before too long. “How are you feeling?” 

“Relieved.” The hobbit admitted, his lips quirking up into a smile. “More confident.” 

“That is very good to hear. Though just for the record,” Fili piped in, gently nudging Bilbo’s side, “it may be best to keep our shirts on for the next round, hm?” 

The hobbit flushed scarlet, sputtering and shoving at him. “I did what I felt was necessary!” He shot back, unable to keep himself from laughing. “Besides I will _not_ be doing it again.” 

“What won’t ye be doin’ again now?” Bofur came up at Bilbo’s side, having apparently waited in the hall for him at the meeting’s end. 

“Nothing!” The hobbit assured quickly, taking his friend’s arm and dragging him away from the princes. “Come now, what are we all doing lazing about in the hall, It’s just about time for supper. It wouldn’t do to be late now would it?” 

He and Bofur carried on deeper into the mountain with the boys at their heels, Balin joining them shortly thereafter. It would no doubt be a quiet evening, what with the strenuous day now behind them. 

The week was done, and with only three more to go before the big day Bilbo couldn’t help but feel openly, unabashedly hopeful. 

TBC…


	3. The Dark Beneath the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Uncle Bilbo.” The child whined, dodging around a carefully poised wrack of spears to get to where the older hobbit was perched. “I got blisters.”_
> 
> _“Oh dear.” He drew the hobbitling into his lap, turning his palms up in his grip. “Look at how brave you are with these nasty things.”_
> 
> _Thankfully the blisters had already burst, but they were fat where they spread across the shireling’s palms. “Alright, we’ll have to get rid of this extra skin, okay?”_
> 
> _“Mmm.” The child made a bright noise of distress, trying to hide his hands. “We can just use dwarf magic right?”_
> 
> _“Hm, no magic fer this lil’un.” Dwalin set Sting aside and stood to rustle around in the back. He came back with a large vile of liquid and a small wooden box. He reached in, pulling out a pair of blades to help cut away the dead skin. “We do ‘av medicines t’make the pain go away.”_
> 
> \---
> 
> Two weeks into this wedding preparations and Bilbo finds himself facing some rather unexpected obstacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here! And it's a longer one to boot! 
> 
> This one is a bit more of a heavy chapter, with some action and darker themes. I wanted to give you guys something meaty to work through while I tackle my summer recruitment applications for next year. I am off to a dinner, but I wanted to get this up as soon as I could manage. 
> 
> Just a once through for the edit, so it may be rough in places. Let me know if you see any issues! 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy! Read and Review.

“There ye are Master Bilbo, feet shoulder width apart.”

Dwalin walked around to Bilbo’s leading foot, nudging it in slightly. “Keep yer knees bent and yer pelvis tilted forward.” He watched the hobbit adjust with an approving nod, reaching forward to shove at his shoulder. Bilbo swung with the motion, but his feet stayed planted. “Much better. When yer fighting, y’need to be nimble and quick, but if ye don’t stay grounded ye’ll be on yer ass in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Embarrassingly enough Bilbo had spent more than his fair share of time fighting from his back on the ground. It was not a practice he sought to perpetuate. “I’ve always bent my knees, but I’ve never been so mindful of my posture before.”

“Aye,” Dwalin nodded thoughtfully and came to stand in front of Bilbo, his own practice sword in hand, “a common mistake. Give ye some time an’ some proper trainin’, an’ ye’ll be a swordsman in no time.”

The hobbit beamed, bringing his sword to the ready and dropping down in his stance. He kept his hips tilted forward, his spine supported and his core strong.

When Dwalin lunged he reacted immediately, parrying the attack violently. The dwarrow stepped back, nodding his approval. “Good, yer tired, I can see, but yer still holdin’ strong.” He readied himself again, taking in Bilbo’s posture with a huff. “This time lock blades with me. Time te show ye how to throw off stronger opponents when yer low n energy.”

Bilbo nodded, adjusting his stance and raising his practice sword up in front of him. This time when Dwalin charged the hobbit simply braced himself, taking the blow with as much grace as he could manage. The first time he tensed, and the contact sent him skidding backwards.

He yelped and hit the ground, sliding off to the side in the dirt.

“Ah, see what ye did there?” The dwarrow took his stumble in stride. He stepped forward and clasped Bilbo’s hand, hauling him to his feet. “Ye need te relax an’ flow with ma movement. When I strike, bend yer knees an’ rock forward. Then slide yer blade up to my hilt-“

The hobbit raised his blade on cue, dragging it up towards Dwalin’s hands.

“Spin back an’ away, an’ slash at me with yer follow through.”

Bilbo did as he was told, dodging away and whipping around, catching at the back of the dwarf’s mail with a hearty _thump_.

Dwalin let out a winded noise, stumbling forward with a breathy chuckle. “Excellent Master Bilbo, just like that.”

“Oh, I didn’t hurt you did I?” He laughed and dropped his blade, stepped forward to pat the dwarf apologetically on the back. “I’m quite tired I’m afraid. Lost control for a moment there.”

“Aye, that’s th’point.” The dwarrow straightened with a groan and grinned at him. “Y’manage to hit a goblin with a blow like that, an’ sting’ll cleave straight through ‘em.”

“Speaking of-” Bilbo glanced back towards where his stuff was gathered on a nearby hill. “Do you think you could sharpen it for me before I leave? I always manage to botch my edges.”

“Sure thing.” Dwalin stretched and his joints creaked with a loud pop. “C’mon, let’s take a look at ‘er shall we?”

They were settled into the grounds shed, the dwarf working away at his wet stone, when Frodo came tumbling in through the door.

“ _Uncle Bilbo_.” The child whined, dodging around a carefully poised wrack of spears to get to where the older hobbit was perched. “I got _blisters_.”

“Oh dear.” He drew the hobbitling into his lap, turning his palms up in his grip. “Look at how brave you are with these nasty things.”

Thankfully the blisters had already burst, but they were fat where they spread across the shireling’s palms. “Alright, we’ll have to get rid of this extra skin, okay?”

“Mmm.” The child made a bright noise of distress, trying to hide his hands. “We can just use dwarf magic right?”

“Hm, no magic fer this lil’un.” Dwalin set Sting aside and stood to rustle around in the back. He came back with a large vile of liquid and a small wooden box. He reached in, pulling out a pair of blades to help cut away the dead skin. “We do ‘av medicines t’make the pain go away.”

The shireling nodded, closing his eyes tight when Blibo began to carefully cut away at his blisters. The child did well, not moving or complaining beyond the tight whines that slipped past his throat.

Then there was another commotion at the entrance way, Fili and Kili jogging in with stuff in hand. The younger dwarf immediately raced to Frodo’s side, dropping his gear and kneeling at the shireling’s side. “I’m so sorry little one. We should have noticed before we stopped.”

“Oh hush, that is hardly your fault.” Bilbo soothed, finished snipping away at the flaps of skin. “Just means our Frodo is tougher than we originally believed.”

“Aye, it’s a mark o’ achievement t’ bear blisters.” Dwalin began to smooth ointment over the wounds, barely flinching at the shireling’s sharp gasp. “One day these’ll callous, an’ ye’ll wield a sword without so much as a scrape.”

The tiny hobbit nodded, keeping his hands extended for Dwalin to carefully bind with a cloth made of herbs.

“There ye go. This’ll do fer now.” The dwarf finished one tie and immediately turned to start the next. “An I’ll be gettin’ gloves fer ye an yer Uncle made right up. Ye won’t ‘ave to worry about bangin’ yerselves up anymore, hm?”

Frodo swallowed when the dwarrow finished his last binding, flicking his gaze to Fili and Kili. He curled his hands protectively into his chest, biting his lip. “ _Okay_.”

Dwalin patted his cheek, the motion warm and gentle. “There’s a good boy.” He glanced around the room, noting where Fili still hovered in the door way. “Well m’done sharpenin’ yer blade, an’ ye’d best be making yer way back into the mountain before it gets dark.”

“Did you need help here?” Kili asked, rising to stand.

“Na, off ye go.” The dwarrow waved them away, moving back to collect a massive blade at the corner of the room.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Bilbo gathered Frodo up in his arms and rose to stand, balancing the child at his waist. With his free hand he carefully sheathed his newly sharpened sword. “Will I be seeing you in the ‘morrow Master Dwalin.”

“Aye, if yer up fer it.” The dwarf eyed him with his brows raised.

The next day was his second time in the meeting chambers. He was not terribly excited to have to address the citizens at large, but at least he was now a veteran of the process.

“I most certainly will be.” He assured the dwarrow pointedly, offering him a smile.

One cue Kili gathered up Bilbo’s things from his side, allowing the hobbit to carry his nephew unburdened. “Enjoy the rest of your day old man.”

“Aye, an’ ye bite yer tongue before I pinch it fer ye.” Dwalin scolded, muttering and returning to his work.

Bilbo made his way out the door behind the brothers, calling back one more quick ‘thank you’ for the dwarf inside.

They had a pleasant walk back to the mountain, meeting with Bofur and Balin on a nearby hill. Frodo stayed wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders, gingerly holding his bandaged hands.

“I am terribly sorry that we hurt you little one.” Fili chimed after a moment, his tone careful. “Are you alright?”

The shireling nodded, turning his face to offer the prince a smile. “Mhm, just means I get gloves.”

“That you do little one.” The hobbit cupped his nephew to his chest and gave him a comforting pat. “Now, let’s get some food in you, hm?”

“Yes please!”

\---

With the meeting approaching Bilbo felt tension running high between them. The princes stayed for a quick, early supper before heading off to visit Thorin.

That left Bilbo with the task of tucking Frodo away from the night, the shireling pleasantly exhausted after helping Bombur to make their food. He had not complained about his hands once, and for that Bilbo was beyond grateful.

Bofur had happily volunteered to carry the shireling back to their rooms. The child was in desperate need of a nap. He had his hands wrapped firmly around the dwarf’s neck, his cheek squished up to his shoulder.

The older hobbit watched them fondly from where he trailed behind them, absentmindedly picking at callouses of his own.

The dwarf rounded a corner up ahead, disappearing from sight just for a moment. Then without warning Frodo was screaming, the sound shrill and chilling in the darkened mountain hall.

Bilbo dashed around the corner without thinking, barely dodging the club that suddenly swung viciously in his face. Even as he stepped quickly to the side he could see where Bofur was sprawled across the ground, his hat missing and a trickle of blood pooling out past his hair. With a start the hobbit darted forward, eyes immediately searching for Frodo.

At first the child was nowhere to be found, then a small cry caught his attention. Frodo, bless his tiny heart, was running down the hall at a full sprint. Bilbo went to start after him when two figures stepped in his path. He took a step back and something collided hard with his head, sending him sprawling forward.

His body hit the ground like dead weight. With a bleary groan he blinked against the stars of pain that flashed across his vision.

Slicing agony shot through his head, driving like a blade into his skull. It made it hard to think, to even breathe; made it near impossible to resist when strong arms scooped him up from behind, hauling him over a leather covered shoulder.

They started to move and it took all he had to keep from passing out cold. Wherever they were taking him, he needed to know. He needed to find a way back once he managed to escape-

Nausea gripped him tightly and he shuddered against the dwarf’s back. His body felt limp like a wet rag, sprawled gracelessly in his captor’s grip. They rounded a corner and he lost sight of Bofur completely. Panic flooded through him along with the creeping edge of darkness in his vision. He blinked back tears, fists pounding weakly against the dwarrow’s shoulder before he finally went slack.

His vision swam and his eyes dropped shut, heavy like lead. There was no way to fight the pull of sleep, even as he sucked in desperately through his nose.

They went around another bend and Bilbo’s entire word went black.

\---

He came to in time to hit the ground hard, groaning at the impact and squirming against the rock.

Distantly he registered something constant and rhythmic, a low bell chiming deep under the mountain. It was something he had never heard before, deep and chilling.

With a hard breath he tried to get his feet, only to have strong hands force him down to the ground once more. He winced and ducked his head when his jacket was wrenched off from behind him. Before he could react, his hands were twisted behind his back and ropes coiled around his wrists.

On instinct he struggled, thrashing against his bindings. He got a fist to the back of his head for his efforts, the blow just about knocking him senseless. With a renewed burst of agony across his brow he gave in, allowing his face to press to the ground.

His body was bumped and jostled, before he was hauled up by an arm around his middle and tossed bodily into a hard, metal container. The impact knocked the wind out of him and he wheezed, nearly heaving.

With a hard squirm he forced his bleary gaze up, startling when he recognized the familiar rafters of a mine shaft. One of the few still in states of abandonment throughout the city, no doubt.

_There were hundreds of shafts beneath Erebor._

His chances of rescue were becoming more slim by the moment, but his head pounded and he had to blink blearily against the fog of sleep that threatened to overwhelm him.

The bells still echoed down to him, steady and rhythmic. He focussed on the sound and tried to stay calm; alert enough to gather some semblance of his senses. Then he bit back a shout when a rough, burlap cover was yanked over the mine cart, leaving him shrouded in darkness.

Even still he could tell they were moving, and the urge to cry out was almost overwhelming. In the long run it would do him no good. If he alerted his captors to his being awake he would get another good smack for his efforts. So he clamped down hard on the inside of his cheek, knowing full well that even if he screamed out, there would be no one to run to his aid.

He swallowed back the lump that settled in his throat and tried to get comfortable against the hard steel at his spine. Already his body felt heavy, eyes drooping and mind clouded with fog. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up and let sleep take him.

_That wasn’t a luxury he could afford at the moment._

So he fixed his gaze into the darkness and focussed on the distant chiming that trickled into his ears. For a small time it was a comfort, but before long the rusted creaking of the cart wheels began to drown out the ringing bells.

He was left to struggle on alone.

\---

When Bilbo awoke he realized blearily that he was no longer in the cart. It was still completely dark, only now his eyes were wrapped up in thick cloth. He groaned and winced around the wad of fabric crammed into his mouth. With a slow, calming breath through his nose he struggled to fight back the wave of panic that gripped him.

It took a few more measured breaths before he was calm enough to shift his focus, straining instead to pick up any noise surrounding him.

There was no telling how long he had been out, but he seemed to be alone for the moment. Carefully he pushed at the gag with his tongue. It was wedged hard behind his teeth, sticking even when he stretched his jaw as wide as he could manage.

After a few moments of struggling he whined out through his nose, switching tactics. He rolled over to the side and dropped his head to the floor. There he began to drag his face across the concrete, catching at the blindfold and easing it carefully up over his hair. There was no helping the way the dirt ground scraped up his cheeks, but thankfully it wasn’t long before he was blinking up into the candle-lit chamber.

He had no idea where his captors were or how much time had passed. Frodo had to have made it back to the King by now; Fili and Kili would be comforting him, offering what little solace they could.

He clung to the thought like a life line, his thoughts turning to Bofur. It pained him to think of his friend, crippled and bloodied on the hall floor. If they found him…if he somehow managed to describe the attackers-

Bilbo cut the thought off short, struggling to focus on the task at hand.

With a grunt he tested the binds behind him, wincing when the rope bit into his flesh. There was a good chance he would have to cut himself loose.

Huffing with effort he got to his feet out in front of him. The knots on his bindings looked secure, but there was a small amount of give between his legs. He tested his hands with a quick jerk, letting out a breath of relief when he found them to be the same. While he was fairly flexible, especially for a hobbit, he found his shoulders ached when he carefully he maneuvered his hands down his back and under his bottom. The ropes were pulled taught, digging into his flesh and catching on his trousers when he pulled them down beneath the heels of his feet.

A sudden spell of dizziness hit him and he paused, sucking in greedily through his nose. The strain was taxing and even as he finally managed to ease his arms out in front of him he felt a sharp pinch of pain shoot straight through the crown of his head.

He groaned and drew his hands to his mouth. He could feel the bulging edges of the wadded fabric that pried his lips open. It was damp with sweat and saliva, but he managed to get a good grip on one edge. Slowly he unfurled the cloth, dragging it out from between his teeth in easy, measured strips. Then when the wad was small enough to shift he jammed his tongue back up against it.

His face ached, skin stretched to chafing, and just when he thought he couldn’t handle another second of it the mass popped free.

Saliva dribbled down from his lips, spittling out when he choked on a violent cough. His lungs heaved and he raised his hands up to carefully stretch his jaw. The bones cracked with a sharp bite of pain, before the sensation settled into a constant, heavy ache.

Rolling onto his stomach he forced himself forward, crawling his way towards the far wall flat on his belly.

There, at the end of the cramped storage chambers, was _Sting_.

It hung near the door, high up even by a dwarf’s standards, still tucked neatly in its sheath.

With a new found sense of direction he dragged himself forward, his attention fixed unwaveringly on the wall at his front. _Getting to his sword meant getting back to his family._

Cautiously he made his way over to sting, pausing to stand in front of a crate at a nearby shelf. He pushed the thing over, careful not to make too much racket. Then he balanced on the edge and reached up, fingers stretching for the dangling sheath. When he finally got a grip on it he jerked it up and off of the nail it hung from. The crate toppled over at the sudden motion and he crashed to the floor, biting back the urge to shout.

After catching his breath he straightened up, wincing at the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed him. His head pounded and his mouth went dry, but there was no time to dwell on his aching body.

He set the tip of the sheath between his feet and took the hilt into his mouth. Biting down he carefully dragged the blade out, immediately working at the rope between his hands. He sawed steadily at the strands, head cocked and expression pinched. Despite the pounding of his heart in his ears he managed to stay alert to the noises beyond the cellar door.

In no time flat his hands were freed and was starting on his feet. He was beyond thankful that he had Dwalin sharpen up his blade. The edges made neat work of the bindings around his ankles, leaving him free to stand on his swollen, aching feet. He winced and rolled out his joints, before securing his sheath around his waist.

It seemed his kidnappers had underestimated him. That alone was an enormous relief.

He edged up to the door, eyeing the lock carefully. There was no way that he could immediately see to get it open, so he did the next best thing. He took a measured breath and began to fish around in his pants pockets. Sure enough he found it where he left it, tucked neatly away in a small, carefully stitched pocket.

Sliding on his ring, he made his way back over to the shelf and wrapped his hands around the sides. Dragging backwards against the wood he dashed off to the side, slipping away when it began to tip. It clattered to the ground, contents toppling with an ear shattering crash.

He had overturned four more before the door burst open, angry dwarves piling in. Tensing the hobbit twisted around the first one, before racing by the next pair and slamming the entrance shut behind him. He threw the latch closed and eased off the ring, brandishing Sting with his free hand.

On the tips of his toes he eased down the hall, trying to gather his bounds. He was no doubt somewhere deep in the mines, judging by his surroundings and the scarcity of the torches. There was no way he would find his way out alone; he would have to wait for an unsuspecting guide to come upon him.

He eased forward a bit more, coming to a stop abruptly when the room behind him erupted into frustrated shouts.

Cursing he started jogging up the hall, trying to put some distance between himself and the source of the noise. It would do him well to stumble upon someone, and not the other way around. He only managed to keep up the pace for a moment, his head throbbing steadily with each hurried step forward.

Carefully he slowed and raised a hand to the back of his head. He winced at the contact, fingers coming back a dark crimson. Swallowing, he grit his teeth and wiped them against his trousers.

It wouldn’t do him any good to be racing around with such a bad wound.

He slowed and pressed his back against the wall, moving along until he stumbled upon the end of the cart tracks. He had no idea where they would lead him, but it was better than nothing. In a split second decision he went up on tiptoe to edge one of the torches down. He used the light to make his way along the tracks, adrenaline still racing through his system.

With each step forward he focussed on calming his nerves, trying to steady the heavy pounding of his heart. For a time he was alone in the darkness, trudging along. His progress was slow and arduous, energy steadily wavering.

Then, just when he’d finally adjusted to the rhythm of motion he ran into a problem.

The fork in front of him looked impossibly menacing; twin, shadowed corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. He frowned, looking between the two with his teeth worrying his lip. He had no memory of the trip down into the shafts. He would have to rely on his wits alone.

Scowling he glanced about, before the torch in his hand caught his attention with a sudden bolt. “Oh!”

He raised it up in the air, holding it to the first shaft. The flame moved slightly while he steadied his arm, before it stabilized, burning brightly. Disappointed he shifted his attention to the second corridor, brandishing the torch. After a breathless moment the flame flickered, stilling, and flickering again. Relief flooded over him and he stepped forward, bracing against the wall and cocking his head to listen.

It took all of his concentration to drown out the harsh rattling of his breath and the hard thrum of his heart in his ears; but sure enough, he could hear a bustle of movement, heading towards him from deeper down the shaft.

Those would no doubt be reinforcements for his attackers-

They were also his guide out of this intensive maze.

He took a moment to ensure that his ring was still where he had subconsciously slipped it back into his pants pocket.

Then moving as quickly as he could manage he maneuvered down the darkened corridor. He kept his torch lit as long as he felt he could, warring between relief and dread as the voices grew louder and more distinct.

They were dwarves, growling to one another in Khuzdul. He listened to them carefully, eyes peeled ahead. Then suddenly he spotted the flare of lamp-light around a distant bend. Quickly he dropped his torch, biting his cheek to keep from gasping when he stamped it out with his swollen foot.

He forced himself to stay composed, reaching for his ring and steadily sliding it on.

Then he drew Sting, keeping his breathing low as he crept closer to the approaching party. There were only two of them, muttering to each other openly, blades strapped to their waists. When they drew close enough Bilbo pressed himself to the wall, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

He gripped sting, shifting until he had the hilt towards his nearest opponent. Then he lunged, using as much force as he could muster to drive it up into the top of the man’s neck. It was a bit of a stretch for him, but he jumped into the motion, slamming into the spot where the spine met the dwarf’ steely skull.

With a hard shout he toppled over, Bilbo sprawling hard across his back. He scrambled to grab at the dwarf’s hair before they collided with the ground, forcing his face down hard against the rail track. Then he quickly rolled off to the side, edging his ring off and into his palm. The man’s companion let out a startled shout at the sight of him, dropping his lantern and racing back to the wall when the hobbit lunged for him.

Pressing sting to the dwarf’s sternum the Halfling pinned him to the wall, watching him in the shadows. “I trust you speak the common tongue?”

“ _I do_.” The dwarrow managed, swallowing hard and tilting his head up when the blade trailed to close to his throat. “Killing me will do nothing for your cause-”

Bilbo barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I have no intention on killing you, if I can help it.” He added just a touch of pressure, his blade easily slicing through a layer of the dwarf’s tunic. “You and your friend will be cooperating with me from here on out, and I promise not to harm either of you.”

“ _You promise?_ ” Snarled the dwarf from the ground, carefully easing to his feet and eyeing the hobbit. There was a deep gash across his brow, blood dribbling down into one of his eyes. He kept it squeezed shut tight, licking his bloodied lips from the mess that was his nose. “I think you misunderstand your role here _Halfling_ -”

Eyes narrowing Bilbo fisted one hand in the tunic of the dwarrow at his front. With a hard lurch he whipped the man around, shifting to grip his collar from behind. “I understand my role, _perfectly_.” He pressed the tip of his blade right below his ribs, adding just enough pressure to be menacing. “If you want to live, you will both _heed_ my words.”

The dwarf across the hall growled, but his companion hushed him, hands raised.

They began to converse once more in Khuzdul, their tones frustrated and short. Then the dwarrow at his front glance back to him, offering him a nod. “We will cooperate.”

He would not allow himself to feel relieved; at least not yet. “Good. There were dwarves guarding me back in that closet you had me trussed up in. They are fine, I assure you-” he cut in quickly, “but they are quite locked in at the moment. Firstly you will both deposit your weapons here on the floor. Immediately.”

He waited for them to start to move, silence weighing between them before belt buckles clanged and metal dropped heavily to the ground.

Satisfied, Bilbo continued. “Now, I need your friend to pick up his lantern and start walking. You will turn around only, and I want to be quite clear about this part, _only_ once you’ve freed your companions.”

The dwarrow in the center of the hall growled, but he made no move to object.

“As for you-” He reached up to grasp at the dwarf’s hair, yanking it firmly to the side, “you will wait with me until your friend is well on his way, then you will take me back to my family.”

Silence met his statement and Bilbo released his grip, satisfied. “That would be your cue to _move_.”

The dwarf in the middle of the hall snarled, before retrieving his lantern and stomping off in the direction of his fellow captors.

Bilbo watched him go, waiting until the lantern was well into the distance before he nudged the body at his front. “Shall we?”

The dwarf stepped forward, retrieving his own lamp and turning to flash the hobbit an uncertain look. “How can I be sure I’m not walking to my execution?”

With a sigh the hobbit drew sting back, keeping it poised but allowing the other a momentary reprieve. “I have no intention of harming any of you, though the King _is_ a dangerous enemy to make.”

He let the words sink in while they turned and began to walk, Bilbo making sure to linger just a few steps behind. “However, that is not my way. If it was, do you think I would have let your friend live? Or allowed him to return to release _my_ captors?”

“I pride myself in my skills as a negotiator-” he glanced to the back of the dwarf’s head, trying not to sound annoyed, “I will end this in a manner agreeable to all parties involved. Mind you, there will be repercussions for the kidnapping. Not so severe as you might think, but I am damned well sick and tired of all of this-”

Gesturing vaguely to himself he made a frustrated noise. “ _Nonesense_.”

The dwarf glanced over his shoulder at him, his expression carefully neutral in the shadows. Bilbo sought out his gaze and continued, his tone steady. “Not the first time I’ve had to escape capture, nor the most difficult, but let me tell you sir, I very well plan to make it my last.”

A gruff chuckle rang through the hallway, and it took Bilbo a moment to realize that his guide was laughing. “You are a strange one, Halfling.”

“My name is Bilbo.” He shot back testily, bringing his free hand up to brace against his aching brow.

For a moment nothing was said, then the dwarf responded gruffly. “Haggar.”

“Well Haggar, if we could move along now?” He pressed forward to urge on the other’s pace, a firm hand on his back. “I need to prepare for that meeting tomorrow-”

The last part was more an after-thought, muttered under his breath, but the way Haggar stiffened made Bilbo tense. “What?” He grabbed at the dwarf and spun him around, gazing to him imploringly. “Tell me.”

“You’ve been down here near a day.” He offered Bilbo, words slow and reluctant. “The meeting would be in a few hours’ time, had it not been cancelled.”

“ _Cancelled?_.” _A day?_ He shook his head, releasing Haggar and nudging him forward once more. “Oh no, not if I can help it. Come now, we have some distance to cover and not a lot of time to spare.”

The dwarf made no further comment, instead falling into a light jog in front of Bilbo, leading the hobbit back towards Erebor’s center.

There was no way for him to tell how long it would take them, and his injuries would no doubt hinder their progress; but he had to try.

\---

“We’re nearing the entrance to the city.” Haggar called back gruffly from where he walked a pace ahead.

The sound of his voice drew Bilbo out of the daze he’d slipped into, allowing him to distance himself from the steady ache that seemed to encompass his whole frame. He reached down to his pocket instinctually, sliding on the ring and drawing up to the dwarf in one shaky motion.

With one hand fisted in Haggar’s tunic he drew closer to him, using his grip both to control his guide and to steady his own wavering steps.

“You no doubt have friends outside. They will not see me.” He slid Sting back up to press against the dwarf’s side, digging in just enough to make his point. “You will tell them that the prisoner has attacked his guards, and that you were sent to seek aid. Straight forward enough, I should say.”

The dwarf made a noise of agreement, sucking in a little when Bilbo’s blade pressed too firmly. “And after that?”

“You will silently walk towards the Royal quarters, where the two of us will find the King.” The hobbit stated, his tone even.

Haggar chuckled, the sound low and humour-less. “You are certain that Oakenshield will not kill me on sight?”

“He is not that man.” Bilbo told him firmly, urging him forward but letting up with his blade somewhat. “Not anymore.”

“Taking your word for this, am I?” He shot back, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

“I was not making a request Haggar.” He gave him a light push, making sure to keep his grip firm. “ _Move_.”

The rest of their progress through the dark was silent, but sure enough, before long they caught sight of the thick glow of lantern light from the city halls. There, a group of four dwarves blocked the entrance to the mine. A cart rested between them, no doubt the one they had transported him in earlier.

Bilbo held his breath, moving silently at Haggar’s heels when he addressed the group in Khuzdul. T hobbit had no way of knowing if he was doing as he was told; he could only wait and hope.

Then the group rose to stand, collecting the weapons they had scattered about. They nodded to Haggar as they moved past, Bilbo having to dodge to the side slightly when one drew too close to give the dwarf a friendly slap.

The pair watched them go, waiting until they were well out of sight before Bilbo urged Haggar on once more.

It was still too risky to speak, so they walked on in silence, moving deeper into the kingdom. Once they were well enough away Bilbo cleared his throat, loosening his grip on the dwarf slightly. “For a kidnapper, you are delightfully cooperative.”

“One tends to be, when there is a sword pressed to their gut.” The dwarf shot back, but his tone was not so strained as Bilbo would have expected.

“I will ensure the King knows how helpful you have been.” He stated, confident and firm. “I will resolve this peacefully, on that you have my word.”

For a moment Haggar glanced back to where Bilbo should have been, his expression one of confused wonder. “You are a very strange man, hobbit.”

“So I am told.”

Moving through the halls was much faster than in the darkened mine tunnels. He was able to keep up with Haggar’s quick pace through the sharp flares of pain that danced across his vision.

After what seemed like hours the dwarf stopped, a flurry of movement at his front. Bilbo released him and glanced to the centre of the hall, his heart squeezing in his chest. Two familiar figures were arguing with a group of city guards, their faces animated and gestures fierce.

He could taste the relief that flooded through him, piercing the haze of pain. Sliding off the ring he tucked it back into his pocket and stepped in front of Haggar, smiling. “Nori, Dori!”

The older of the brothers turned to him first, his expression one of shock and disbelief. “ _Master Baggins!_ ”

They rushed up to him while he sheathed his blade, their expressions pinched with worry. Then Nori caught sight of the dwarf at his heels and he snarled, brandishing the Quarter-Staff in his grip. “An who might _he_ be?”

“My unwilling, but obliging guide.” Bilbo held a hand out, widening his stance in front of Haggar. “He will accompany me until I reach Thorin and he will be treated with the upmost respect. I promised him that much, and he has shown me nothing but cooperation in turn.”

“Thorin?” Dori shook his head, already tutting around him like a mother hen. He cupped the hobbit’s dirtied cheeks, tilting his head one way, then the other. “You are _caked_ in blood.”

“Then summon Oin to the royal meeting chambers.” He responded, not unkindly. “I will not allow myself to fall to ruin, but even still I will have this day go as planned.”

“Bilbo, ye can’t possibly mean te-”

“We will call the meeting to order as soon as we are able. In the meantime, I need to meet with Thorin.” He kept his tone serious, expression dire. “This is not up for debate.”

The brothers seemed to hesitate, glancing to one another before they finally relented. Dori stepped forward first, nudging Haggar around in front of him and wrapping a protective arm around the hobbit’s waist. “To the meeting room with haste then.”

He shot Nori a look at the red-head nodded, already heading back towards the guards. “I’ll be sendin’ someone te fetch Oin, an’ the King.”

“Oh and Nori!” Bilbo drew out of the older brother’s grip and drew close to him, lowering his voice. “There is one more favour I might ask of you.”

\---

Bilbo and Dori were naturally the first to arrive in the massive chambers. The meeting, he was told, was originally scheduled to start a short time before they had stumbled on him in the halls. Despite already running behind, Bilbo was determined to have the night go as planned. They would have to give the attendees notice, but he was certain that those with pressing questions would be eager to make an appearance.

Before parting he had sent Nori off with a handful of guards to address the dwarves still in the mine shaft. He had given them strict instructions that no one was to be harmed; unless absolutely necessary. All he could do was hope that his friend did not take a _liberal_ interpretation of his words.

Once arriving in the room he had settled into his seat at the end of the conference table, Dori having procured a stool for himself and for Haggar, who hovered awkwardly at the aged dwarf’s side. Nothing was said between them, beyond Dori’s anxious mutterings as he dabbed at Bilbo’s face with a damp cloth. At first the hobbit asked after Bofur, having last seen his friend in a terrible state. As it turned out he was faring fine in the medical wing where, the old dwarf was not afraid to point out, Bilbo really belonged himself. He had waved off all concerns, stubbornly ignoring the prompts to abandon his plan and give in to the urge to rest. Afterwards they sat in silence, just waiting for the first of their scheduled guests to arrive.

Unsurprisingly when the door opened it was Thorin who came storming in.

The King paid no heed to the slamming wood behind him as he pushed through into the room and headed straight for the back.

“Bilbo Baggins you delightfully, miserably, fantastically crafty creature you.” He came to a stop at the hobbit’s front, Dori moving so he could sit. Thorin reached out and touched his chin, tilting his face to one side, then the other. He snarled under his breath, anger flaring in his gaze. “ _I’ll have their heads_.”

Rolling his eyes the Halfling reached out and put his own hands to both of Thorin’s cheeks, the gesture almost too familiar, given their setting. He couldn’t bring himself to care, squeezing at the flesh beneath his beard and adopting a scolding tone. “Thorin Oakenshield you will do _no_ such thing.”

Put off the King sat back, his hands fisting into his trousers and his teeth gritted in a hard line. “They have been holding you ransom.”

The information was not exactly shocking and the hobbit gave a thoughtful nod, his eyes flicking momentarily to where Haggard sat off to the side, forgotten. “Gold?”

Shaking his head Thorin’s jaw tightened. “They want you to end your engagement with one of my nephews.”

Bilbo let out a sharp noise, barking and hollow. “That is absolutely ridiculous.”

“My sentiments exactly.” The King’s expression darkened, and he tightened his fist on the table. “When they told me you were heading here, I had the rebel leader incarcerated. We will track down each and every one of your captors, and I will personally ensure they are locked away.”

“That is not the right solution here and you know it.” Bilbo countered, sitting back in his seat. “As your counsel, and your friend, let me offer you another alternative.”

Thorin stiffened, but finally relented with a nod. “Alright, what would you suggest?”

“Hold the meeting.” The hobbit glanced down the table, nodding to himself with a hard swallow. “Call in all those who were to be in attendance, and allow my captors their chance to speak.”

“Are you absolutely daft?” The King scoffed, his tone vicious.

Even Haggard looked shocked from where he sat behind them, his body tensing and his eyebrows pinched together.

“The very _purpose_ of this tradition is to put the worries of your citizens to rest, is it not?” He countered and gave his head a hard shake. “If these dwarves were so desperate that they risked life and limb to kidnap the royal intended, then I would say that they have some fairly significant concerns to be addressed.”

“Are you sure about this Bilbo?” Dori drew forward once more, unable to help himself as it seemed. “You should be resting, getting aid-”

“Oin will arrive shortly with treatment for my wounds.” The hobbit tried to assure him, offering a strained smile. “He can continue to dress them while the meeting runs for all I care. I want this room filled. I will have this day over-with, and I will get this wedding back on track. Are we all in understanding here?”

Thorin made a sharp noise of disbelief and sat back further on his stool. “You never cease to amaze and infuriate me, Master Baggins.”

“It is a gift, let me assure you.” The hobbit shot back, sighing. “As much as I hate to say it, I can’t have Frodo seeing me just yet. I expect he is somewhere safe?”

The King nodded and folded his hands in his lap. “With Dis in her chambers.” He continued without prompting and flashed Bilbo a reassuring smile. “Fili and Kili are in the kitchens, being forced fed by a very perturbed Balin.”

Nodding he licked his lips. “The princes will obviously be summoned, but do you suppose Dis would mind keeping Frodo until after the meeting?”

“I can’t see why not.” Thorin still looked uneasy, but he was no longer objecting. “You will heed all of Oin’s instructions?”

“Of course.” Bilbo brought a hand to his brow, pinching his nose. “Now, let’s figure out how to get this meeting back on track, shall we?”

\---

Fili and Kili had been decidedly unimpressed to arrive at the chambers and find Oin fussing over a steadily waning hobbit. They had hurried up to his side, fussing and cursing while he dutifully chewed away at the hard chunks of meat the old dwarf forced into him.

After brief and careful introductions Thorin had allowed Haggar to go with a guard escort to retrieve the rebel leader for the meeting. The King had sent Dori to spread the news of the adjusted schedule, but had stayed dutifully by Bilbo’s side, watching his treatment with a careful eye.

“All tough bravado, no head fer health-” Oin grumbled, eyeing the growing crowd of people that streamed into the room to take their seats. His face scrunched up and he growled out his distaste, going back to his careful, methodic cleaning of Bilbo’s scalp.

The hobbit had been stripped of his bloodied Tunic top, and was draped in the King’s thick, fur cloak. He clutched it tighter when the medic wrung out another sponge of tolerably hot water over his head. His hair was soaked from the process, blood streaking down with the liquid across his face and throat. The fabric that he had curled around his front was thick enough to keep him dry, and he tried not to think about how he was dirtying Thorin’s fine mantle.

“I will rest as soon as this is over.” Bilbo stated, the words spluttering slightly through the steady trickle of water that dripped down his chin. “I will not have this hang over our wedding day. We have scheduled our time to the hour and I for one, will not squander it.”

“ _Squander_ -” Fili cursed, bracing his hand on the table and fighting to keep his tone calm, “Bilbo are you listening to yourself? _Mahal_ , I can’t stand the thought of that traitor in this city, let alone this room.”

“You think I’m not capable of this.” It wasn’t a question, and the hobbit was less than impressed. “I have dealt with far worse and you all know it.”

He looked up when Oin puttered away to grab a clean towel from the nearby stool. Kili had his gaze fixed on the floor, eyes steely and cold; Fili on the other hand, was burning with rage. Thorin sat apart from them, silent and contemplative.

With a hard sigh Bilbo turned to the princes, releasing his grip on the cloak long enough to cross his arms sternly over his chest. “Right now I lack the energy to keep fighting with you on this.” He raised his brows, looking over to Kili and clearing his throat. He waited for the young dwarf to look up before he continued, his voice steady. “What I need you two to do is trust me. I will not tax myself further than necessary, and I guarantee my appearance will garner either sympathy or respect from most of our crowd today.”

He nodded his head down the table, wincing slightly when the motion caused a twinge of pain. “I will face this trial head on, and we will all come out of it for the better in the end.” The words took a self-assuring edge, his expression relaxing and his breathing even. “My one regret is that these lunatics could not simply wait their turn to have at this marriage.”

Both brothers looked guilty, before Kili stepped forward, cupping Bilbo’s dirtied cheeks and offering him a small smile. “I am so sorry you have to go through all of this.” He murmured, sighing. “We’re with you. Each step of the way.”

“He is, surprisingly, right for a change.” Fili chided, getting a sharp elbow from his brother when he pulled away from the hobbit. “I am sorry Bilbo. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“I forgive you of course.” He assured the blond, smiling and wrapping the cloak back around his waist. Oin had returned to his side, fussing and drawing him back to sit properly in his seat. The aged healer began to dab his scalp and hair dry, mindful of the gash that stretched across the back.

The Princes hovered around him for a time, but as the room filled they found their seats, Fili adopting his mother’s customary space, while Kili settled in right at their Uncle’s side. Thorin was standing now at the head of the table, watching the doors with a keen interest.

Then, as the stream of people thinned down to nothing, a group of five entered the room. Bilbo recognized Haggar immediately, only to start at the sight of the young dwarf from the week before. He felt a sharp wave of nausea grip him and he glanced down to the table. The memory surged in him, fresh, and he swallowed, thankful that the elder of that pair was decidedly absent.

Once they were settled Thorin called the meeting to order. He addressed the first wave of questions that Bilbo would have no doubt been bombarded with by immediately launching into an explanation of what had happened to the hobbit in the last day. They had spoken in depth before Fili and Kili’s arrival, and so Bilbo was free to relax back in his seat, accepting the tonic that Oin handed to him without question.

“Ye’ll feel a slight fog, an’ yer tongue’ll be loosened, but that’s nothin’ ye can’t handle.” The dwarf gruffed out, setting a medical suture kit on the table top and motioning for him to swallow the mug down.

He did so immediately and leaned over the arm of the chair slightly at Oin’s direction.

“Ye shouldn’ feel much o’ this. Herb numbs th’flesh like a dream.” He trailed off, muttering on about stubborn hobbit folk while he started to work away at Bilbo’s head, massive glasses balanced precariously on his nose to aid in precision.

He tensed, waiting for the sharp sting of pain when the needle first entered his skin, but he found only a dull pressure registered in his mind. Relaxing he tried to stay perfectly poised for the old dwarf.

“ _-now, with that in mind, I would ask that we keep this meeting exceptionally short, for the sake of Master Baggins’ health._ ”

Bilbo turned his attention back to the matter at hand, gazing down the table at the sea of faces. How many of them would actually speak that night was left to be seen.

“I will now open the floor. Keep in mind all I have said, keep your questions prompt and relevant.”

He sat down, and immediately one of the dwarves rose to stand. He was introduced, and asked his question in a quick, rough tone. A query about his willingness to go to war, should it be required. He answered evenly from where he was bent against the arm chair, Oin steadily stitching away.

The next few questions were similarly harmless, passing without any notable concern. People seemed intrigued by him, their gazes following his every movement. A few looked put off by his disgruntled appearance, but even more seemed fascinated with his determination to sit the meeting through.

Eventually, however, as the numbers of those rising to speak started to steadily dwindle, Bilbo began to feel nervous once more. The inevitable was drawing closer, the moment when his dwarven captor would speak. He met the man’s gaze from across the room, suppressing the urge to shudder.

Sure enough the dwarf was the next to stand, Haggar speaking with him under his breath before he pushed his chair back.

“ _Lheor Jardfall._ ” Thorin’s tone was cold when he addressed him, expression hard as steel. “You have the floor. Might I remind you, Master Baggins is in no way obligated to answer your questions. This is a courtesy. One that you certainly do not deserve.”

The dwarf’s jaw clenched, but he offered the king a tight nod all the same. “My question has much to do with the actions of myself and my clan these past two days,” his gaze shifted to Bilbo, expression all but unreadable, “and the demands that were made during the hobbit’s… _absence_.”

Thorin stiffened but refrained from intervening, waiting for Bilbo’s cue. Oin had finished his stitches and applied ointment over the wounds, pausing to smear the excess onto the smaller abrasions across his face. The older dwarf no doubt wanted to bind his head next, his hair having all but dried.

“If you will excuse my attending physician, then I will allow it.” He offered, purposely lacing his words with a confident bravado. He would not show weakness in front of this man. “Go on.”

He turned in his seat obligingly for Oin when Lheor began to speak, forcing himself to stay focussed.

“ _You see, your union, it is a difficult thing for some to swallow-_ ”

The words created a violent murmur of disapproval but Bilbo simply raised his hand from within the cloak clutched around his shoulders, keeping his head carefully poised in Oin’s grip. Lheor paused, before he continued on, his tone cautious and steady.

“Not one, but two crown princes; the last of the line of Durin and you would take them both from their people?” He kept his gaze locked on the hobbit, expression not unkind. “Unless you have something to tell us Mister Baggins, you cannot produce an heir. This most mighty dwarven line will _die_ with you.”

The entire room burst into chaos, snarling words that Bilbo couldn’t understand hurdled back and forth. Kili shot up from his seat, looking murderous. Only his Uncle’s hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks, firm and steady.

Thorin glanced to Bilbo, taking in the hobbit’s expression as Oin forced his attention back from the ruckus at the table, cursing disrespectful dwarves and their lack of care for injured company. The aged physician was just tying last of his bandages, the fabric bound across his brow and down around his jaw. He no doubt looked ridiculous, but he managed to keep his expression neutral, eyes calculating and calm.

“This is, what our King would call a very _personal_ inquiry.” His voice was just about lost in the fray of noise, so he spoke louder, sitting up as much as he could manage in his chair. “However if I am not mistaken this is a forum for addressing concerns. I will speak to this matter, but I will not rob Fili and Kili of their voices. This is my opinion, and mine alone. Is that understood?”

The room slowly hummed down to silence, Lheor watching him closely before he nodded.

Satisfied Bilbo continued, shooting the brothers apologetic glances at his sides. “This is a subject that we have not yet broached, but one to which, throughout the years, I have given some thought.”

He turned his gaze to the rest of the table, his expression set in a hard line. “I would not deprive Fili and Kili of the right to have a child. Particularly as a hobbit, they will outlive me for a number of years.” There were murmurs in the crowd but Bilbo waved them off, shaking his head. “I would never object to either prince approaching me with the desire to have a child. That does not change the fact that our union will hold, and it will _hold strong_. If the time came when the question of an heir arose, if either Fili or Kili had the inclining to have a child, arrangements would be made.”

He forced himself not to look to the princes for their reactions, keeping his attention firmly on Lheor down the table. “There is something that you don’t understand about hobbits, Master Jardfall, and that is our love of family. I would never deny either of my intended the right to have a child of their own. Nor would I deny that child the right to be raised by their birth mother.”

Chin high he scanned the table, his expression daring. “Again, as I said, arrangements would be made. Arrangements that will be quite private thank you very much.”

There was a shocked murmur that rolled through the room, before Lheor’s expression twitched up into a grin. “You are quite unexpected, Master Hobbit.”

“ _So I’ve been told._ ” Bilbo snapped, his patience finally running thin. “Now, let me make this perfectly clear. These meetings are a custom of _your_ people. They are _designed_ to address your worries; to allow me to _surprise_ you with my _worthiness._ ”

Silence rang between his words, only fueling the bubbling anger that welled in his chest. “The next time you feel the need to _kidnap_ someone in front of their _child_ , you might want to take into consideration whether there are any more, I don’t know, _reasonable_ alternatives available, hm?”

The dwarf looked positively dumb-struck, his mouth hanging open and his eyes blown wide.

Taking a moment to compose himself Bilbo tried to steady the pounding of his heart. He glanced around the room, still avoiding the eyes of his friends as he swallowed hard. “This will be the last time an attempt is made on my life by any being short of an Orc, do you hear me? I pride myself in second chances but I will not be so kind again.”

“Accept my answer, and accept the _consequences_ of your actions.” He stated finally, thumping back into his seat with a heavy sigh. “Be grateful that it is my mercy you are at, and not that of our _King_.”

His words rang out in the deadly still chambers, not a soul daring to shift or move. Then Lheor reached for his chair, looking visibly shaken when he moved to sit. “ _That will be all._ ”

Bilbo finally allowed his gaze to turn to Thorin and Kili at his side. The young dwarf looked positively floored, a sea of emotion racing across his face. It was a great deal to take in, and the hobbit suddenly felt immensely guilty that he had not waited for a more private moment to address such delicate issues. He fought the urge to comfort him and flicked his gaze to the King.

Thorin was staring at him, expression unreadable, before he slowly rose to stand.

“That will be all for the day.” He stated, his voice ringing with vicious authority. “ _This meeting is adjourned_.”

Immediately chairs began scraping back, people filing quickly from the room in a steady, hushed stream. Bilbo chanced a moment to glance at Lheor down the table, watching the guards collect him and Haggar with a small pang of relief.

Licking his bloodied lips he glanced over to Fili at his side, wincing at the burning intensity of the prince’s gaze. His actions were weighing heavily on him, regret beginning to eat away at the relief of having the situation over and dealt with; _for good_.

Once enough of the room was cleared, save for Thorin and Oin who still hovered at his side, Bilbo finally found the voice to speak.

“I should have waited until we were alone.” He managed, swallowing around the tight squeeze of anxiety that wrapped around his throat. “I should have never treated such a delicate issue with such blatant disrespect, I-”

“ _Bilbo._ ”

Fili’s hand curled around his cloaked shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. He had no idea when the prince rose to stand, but soon he was crouching at his chair, looking up at him with his expression softened. “You were incredible today.” He laughed, the sound strained while he rubbed a soothing circle on the hobbit’s arm. “ _Mahal_ , you are always incredible I just…I underestimate you. Every single time.”

“Oh hush you.” The hobbit shook his head, offering an easy smile to the prince and reaching up through the cloak to curl their hands together. “I would have liked us to address these sorts of issues on our own terms. You are both so young, I didn’t want to have to fill your heads with troubles of the future just yet.”

He sighed and looked around the room, noting that Thorin was speaking with Oin, Kili still staring resolutely at the ground. Leaning in closer to Fili’s hand he pressed his lips to his knuckles, wincing slightly when he looked down to see a bloodied smear left in his wake. He licked his lips and tried to offer the prince a comforting squeeze. “The final decision is yours to make really. I would never force either you or Kili to seek out another for the sake of an heir. Though Frodo would delight over having cousins to play with.”

Fili shook his head, expression relaxing while he reached for Oin’s abandoned cloth, starting to dab at the dirtied blood that still streaked the hobbit’s face. “Don’t be mistaken, I am glad you respect my right to have children, but I hope you know that one little shireling is enough for me.”

The hobbit shrugged his shoulder, finally allowing himself to relax into the fog of medicine and aching pain that ate at the base of his skull. “Would be nice to carry on the Durin line-”

“ _I’ll do it._ ”

Fili and Bilbo both started, glancing over to find Kili staring at them, his expression deadly serious. Then after a moment it slipped, his nerves shining through. “I mean, not now, or any time soon really.” He flushed and glanced off to the side, scratching his chin. “I just-”

“You would make a _wonderful_ father Kili.” Bilbo cut in, reaching out to him sleepily and smiling when the prince took his hand. “In your own time of course.”

“Nothing to rush into.” Thorin added, stepping into the conversation and offering his nephews an approving nod. “And nothing to dwell on any further for the night. There is someone who has been fussing themselves sick worrying after you-” the King grinned, resting a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, tone teasing, “oh, and of course Frodo misses you too.”

The hobbit laughed, before wincing at the motion, a stab of pain slicing through his skull. “ _Oh_ , oh please I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“I apologize.” Thorin nodded towards the door where a stretcher was carried in by two dwarves in medical garb. “In all seriousness, Dis and your nephew have moved to the infirmary in anticipation of your now _long_ overdue arrival.”

“Alright, alright, we can leave.” The hobbit eased down off of the chair, resisting the urge to shake his head when both Fili and Kili hurried to aid him. “Alright you two, I am injured, not dead.”

“By some miracle Bilbo Baggins let me tell you that.” Kili chided, helping him over to the medical attendants despite his protest.

They had a lot to talk about in the two weeks left before the wedding.

Though as he was carried carefully down into the halls he finally allowed himself to lie back and rest against the make shift cushion beneath him. The thought of seeing Dis and his sweet, dear Frodo was a warm comfort that he immersed himself in.

Back with his family once more.

For good this time, and he would make sure of it.

There was no need to dwell on any of those unseemly thoughts for the moment; so instead he gave in to the heavy pull of the medication.

He closed his eyes to Fili, walking tall in front of the group and Kili at his side, hand curled in his own, squeezing softly.

**TBC**


End file.
